The House of Order - and Chaos

I’d like to think I am an orderly writer. Ahead of starting a blog essay, I spend several days thinking about it and writing up notes. I plan out the anecdotes that will be part of it and my quotes from famous people. I am clear on what I, the writer, want to get across to you, the reader.

But I am in front of my screen, not exactly sure where this is going to go.

For the past few weeks my life has been chaotic, but chaotic for all the best reasons. My eldest Emma got engaged to her longtime boyfriend – whom I adore. And my two other children came home for a long overdue visit. My second child Golde lives in Madrid, Spain, and I have not hugged her since before Covid. My youngest Lucas lives in San Francisco and it’s been a year since I saw him.

I had weeks to prepare for their trips home, yet as the day got closer, I was filled with trepidation. I wanted everything to be perfect, so I really overthought it. I wanted to plan out every second and have them with me 24-7. I even fantasized about locking them in my basement and never letting them leave again.

I know that was unrealistic. And I’m not just talking about the basement confinement. All the hour-to-hour scheduling and just having them with me was silly. They are adults and there were more people than just me that they needed to connect with. Emma (who, thank goodness, is local) reassured me that everything would be OK, and that I just had to let go of my anxiety.

So, I let chaos in. No plans. Just went with it. And I think it actually was OK.

We hugged – a lot. We decided at the last moment where we were going to eat. They visited their people. We watched movies and played with the dog. We shopped. No itineraries were needed. There was much greasy food eaten. There were suitcases and clothing all over my house. The dog was wild with happiness. I know how he felt. I treasured every moment.

My own day to day routine was, of course, shot to hell. I’d taken vacation days from work, so there was no packing my lunch, commuting to Mount Laurel, or keeping up with my responsibilities at the office. It was great to not be at work. But I also know that I am a creature of habit, and my habits bring me a fair amount of comfort.

I eat the same thing for breakfast almost every day – oatmeal and iced coffee. I meditate before leaving the house. I listen to podcasts during my drive. I pick out my clothes, the night before. It’s not that I don’t like to try new things or challenge myself. I just enjoy novelty and boundary-pushing in my own way.

I rarely deviate from my routine – except for vacations, parties, when I’m sick, or for this wonderful family reunion. From these examples, you can see that three out of four reasons for personal anarchy are truly positive. Still chaos can make me queasy – hence my detailed plans for parties and travelling.

But for the ten days of my children’s visit, order went out the window. And that was hard. I see my ordinary life as a sturdy framework of the expected and the planned. Within this “house” I can choose to open the door to the spontaneity and really enjoy it. Conversely, when I am in the house of chaos - whether due to travel, or sickness - if I bring a little bit of my structure with me, I can keep my balance.

What was my teensy bit of structure? Early morning walks with my dog and the poem I say with him. Each day, I take Felix outside and I recite aloud Mary Oliver’s “Why I wake Early.”

This you must understand about me. Poetry is my prayer. And Mary Oliver is my patron saint.

In this short poem, she greets the sun which spreads light over the world to fields and flowers, and even into the windows of the “crotchety.” There are many mornings I know I am the crotchety. She thanks the sun for keeping us from “ever- darkness” and “holding us in the great hands of light.” Her words bring me such a feeling of well-being – even during the long stretch of winter when I am walking before the sun is even up.

Why have I chosen this poem?

There are many days I don’t want to leave the house. However, having a dog necessitates it. More than just wanting to remain behind closed doors, I sometimes don’t want to move forward with the day. I want time to stand still. Oh, my goodness, so many times during my children’s visit, I wanted to freeze time so they would never leave. I would have been willing to live in perpetual chaos, if only time would stop.

But that’s not how life works. The days, the weeks, the years progress. There was nothing I could do to change that, so I decided I’d better learn how to celebrate it. This morning poem/prayer is part of that reconciling with reality.

And this morning poem/prayer honoring the onward march of time was my lifeline to the house of order. It did its job keeping me balanced.

So, on our last afternoon all together, Emma, Golde, Lucas, and I created something as a group in my living room. During one of our shopping trips, we had bought paint and brushes, because we are a crafty family. And I had saved a giant piece of cardboard from a delivery at work – because, well, I’m a weirdo.

We laid it on the coffee table and each of us took a quarter of it. We painted. We painted whatever came to mind. Like this essay, we thought nothing through. Emma painted flowers. Golde, a design that turned into a face. Lucas, a truly bizarre abstraction of colors and line. I painted the sun and around it, the final line of Mary Oliver’s poem: “Watch now, how I start my day in happiness, in kindness.”

Whether one is in the house of order or the house of chaos, and whether one is comfortable or not, the days still start. Let’s start them all with happiness, with kindness.

Remember to create, celebrate, and gather.

(I hope what I write here on Celebrationism.net is helpful. But I know that it cannot replace actual therapy. If you are dealing with serious emotional challenges, please seek out a mental health professional.)

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