On being ready (an ode to intentionality)

I stopped everything I was doing one afternoon to go to the Salvation Army thrift store.  I didn't have that in today's plan. I was actually quite busy before I stopped and ran.

Stopping and running was a really good idea.

There was a step between getting everything under the sun done and heading to the emporium of stuff people no longer want.

During that step I cleared this apartment OUT.

I was hemming and hawing about my website, my next writing piece, why I haven't been sleeping well, what's missing in my wellness plan, whether or not I'm going to stay in New York and so many other things than the work I was actually set to do. In being so productively unproductive I daydreamed and during that daydream I got an idea.

I remembered a scenario that, first, made me laugh, then think, then made me get moving.

The scene:

I was at a boyfriend's, planning to stay the night and I'd forgotten my toothbrush. I'd asked if he had a spare. He had. Before giving me said spare toothbrush he chose to reprimand me saying, "You should always be ready for anything.", then handed it over.

I laughed in recalling this because that ex boyfriend was always afraid of everything, his shadow even, and this time I'm pretty certain this reprimand was about some fictitious possible future, like a zombie apocalypse. His "be ready for anything" was very much tied to being ready for stuff like that...because we all know that you're screwed without a toothbrush when the zombie apocalypse comes along...

The thinking that followed was legit (so, thank you ex boyfriend.  I listened!!).


I want to be ready for anything and everything awesome that comes my way. I want to clear out anything that's in the way of the awesome train. I want to have my space ready to be occupied with all the love this whole and powerful heart deserves (and every heart deserves, simply for being alive). I want to make room for every last drop of curiosity, creativity, inspiration, vitality and joy that surrounds me to COME ON IN. I also want to have a sweet, decluttered, inviting home to entertain said awesomeness.

What can I do right now to get this joint ready?

The getting moving:
I dumped my drawers and I yanked every shoe, bag and garment out of my closet. I stared at the room-sized mound of articles of various fabric and seasonal weight. Now what?

Bag up and donate every last piece I haven't worn in a year.

A year!?!? Like, 365 days?

Well, what about those flats? I liked them once. What about that sweater? I used to get so many complements. What about that dress? I saw my first client in that. What about that skirt? He used to loved that on me.

Once. Used to. Before. Back then.

Not now.

This year. This season. This month. This week. This day. This hour. This moment.

I don't need to hold on to that...any of that. I want to make more new. I want to be ready to make more new...now.

I started sorting, folding, bagging. I got into a rhythm. I cried a bit through memories and fears of not having enough, of needing to hold on to what wasn't me anymore, so I could feel safe and sound. So I could feel secure. At least I knew how that story went.

Lace, leather, silk and cashmere. Couture to H&M, lingerie to LuLuLemon, spring, summer, winter, fall, formal to dressed down, beach to snowfall.

It all went.

Bags tied, hailed a cab, dropped it off.

"Would you like me to write ~ $2000 donation, mame? For tax purposes?"

"Sure, sounds good."

"Some of this stuff is really nice! Thank you!"

"No, thank you. Now I have space to be ready."

"Ready for what?"


Love, Me