This spoof video I saw on Facebook is how I found out about the show:
It made me laugh.
I thought to myself, "Hey, a show about tidying up. Maybe if I watch this with Jane, it will inspire her to tidy up." We watched a lot of it together, but I really enjoyed it and needed something to do while nursing my baby, so I finished 5/8 of the episodes. 3 of them had couples who I found either too irritating or too sad to want to watch for 45 minutes because, well, the show gives a surprisingly intimate glimpse at the inner workings of American homes - and that includes some really strange insight into relationships. For the record, I felt exactly the same amount of discomfort from the few minutes of watching the two gay couples and the unmarried couple expecting a baby; I didn't watch any of those episodes in full, and I think that's okay.
Here are the reasons this show makes great television:
- Freak show! There is a definite element of "hoarders" in it. It is a bit horrifying to see these massive piles of clothing, garage stuff, makeup, etc. So it's easy to feel a little bit like you do whenever you watch any show on TLC - something like, "Those people are so weird!"
- ...and yet, they are almost all relateable. The empathy this show elicits is palpable. The first episode was the family that was most similar to us, but there were moments in the other episodes (even the one family that was legitimately a good candidate for the show "Hoarders." "What do you think about the amount [of these Christmas decorations]? Is it really necessary?" "Absolutely!" :::40 Nutrackers!::: What!
- The show is inspiring. It makes me want to fold laundry.
- Marie Kondo herself is this tiny Japanese woman with a huge, vibrant smile on her face. She is very charismatic and cute.
The show is much better the book (the first one, the one that I read), which mainly gives her own personal experiences with tidying up. Since she comes from a totally different culture and has a different lifestyle and expectations for both the size and 'ideal' management of personal space, a lot of her book felt like some distant weirdo giving advice that would never work. That meant that it was really easy to just look past all of the good stuff, which is a real pity because her method has real value.
She comes from a culture that already values minimalism and simplicity. Japanese culture and ideals are quite different and, in a way, exotic. Most of the time, that is fascinating, for example how she "greets the home." From my perspective as a Latter-day Saint, she's basically praying, except instead of directing gratitude to God, she's directing it to the house itself, which is a very "Eastern Thought" type of attitude.
But sometimes there is a real cultural gap between her method and what is important to Americans, for example, her book advocates that you own 30 books total, all of which must spark joy. She also encourages you to only buy the food that you will eat *that week*, which is basically the opposite of provident living and totally unrealistic in a family of 7 people. When I read these ideas for the first time, I thought, "What is this heresy!?" I shrugged and sighed, and then spent the next two hours talking about it with my friends for a book club meeting.
Later, I read her explanation for the "30 books" thing. She grew up in an extremely humid climate where books were ruined if left on a shelf for too long - to the point that you could not even open the pages. For her, it made sense to have only 30 books at a time. But the point of her philosophy was not to put a quota on the book collection, it was to make sure that you are intentional about the ones you choose to own. How do the books make you feel? Do you feel mired by guilt every time you pass the bookshelf? I definitely do not. I love seeing my little (okay, it's not that little!) library, and it definitely sparks joy, especially when the books are neat. But even when they're piled on my nightstand (as they usually are), books are basically like old friends.
But sure, not all of them! Why keep a book that only elicits guilt? If I know I'm not going to read it or use it, and neither is anyone else in my family now or in the distant future, of course I should not keep it.
Her method is all about validating emotions, or in other words, channeling positive (and negative!) emotions in order to more effectively and efficiently tidy your house. The first step is to horrify yourself by confronting a pile of all the stuff from one category. This is a crucial step because seeing the pile and forcing yourself to admit, "I own too much stuff" is important to motivate you to change.
But the way she addresses change is with an enormous pile of gratitude. This is something that is very appealing to me because it is so positive, as well as so different and interesting; my culture does not tend to value gratitude (we value excess), which is a real pity! It is a little bit weird that she directs words both mentally and vocally to physical objects - and this part of it came across as totally hilarious and stupid in her book, I'll be frank; talk to my socks? Uh...no. But again, this misses the point. It's not *about* talking to the stuff at all, it's about honing an attitude and intense focus on validating your past choices and allowing you to move on. Having observed these people and having tried it myself, I can say that "thanking" an item actually does have value. It's like saying, "I am glad that I had this thing for a while, and now I am glad that I can get rid of it." Saying that over and over and over feels great. I didn't even realize that my previous mentality for purging stuff was so self-critical and, frankly, a bit nasty. Something more like, "Ugh, you're such an idiot. Why would you ever keep that? Throw that stupid thing away!" Hearing that over and over is not very kind to myself.
And, as the mom, I spend a lot of my time dealing with material possessions. I am basically a full-time "stuff" manager. Definitely, definitely not just my stuff. And I definitely could improve.
I like her method for folding for practical reasons. I already fold in thirds because it means there's not a nasty crease on the middle of all my shirts. Folding the stuff in tiny, neat squares and storing them upright in boxes in a drawer is much more space-efficient and time-efficient, too, since it allows you to see what you have at a glance. There's the added bonus of confronting the fact that you have too many of x and not enough of y. My daughters have too many pairs of underwear. I can see that at a glance now. As for me, I actually do not have quite enough t-shirts, and all the ones that fit me (except for one) are either black or gray. I guess I've unintentionally got some kind of capsule wardrobe thing going on without even knowing it, haha.
What's intimate about this show is that it does an excellent job portraying the inner workings of American homes. I am sure that my home has a distinctly Latter-day Saint flavor that differentiates the look, feel, pace, management, even the actual kinds of clutter (think: 9 copies of the King James version of the New Testament scattered around my family room at all times). But there were a lot of really specific details in these peoples' houses that felt familiar. I bet it would be foreign and exotic to a non-American viewer. Also, there are probably some aspects to it that would be disgusting that Americans who have never lived abroad probably never even give a second thought. Most of those probably have to do with the sheer size of the homes, the amount of stuff in them, the loudness of the Americans when they greet guests and visitors, the fact that nobody removes shoes, and a host of other things that I'm probably missing, since I live it.
Except, not really. All the homes featured on the show were in California. None of them had more than 2 children living there - we have five. The space of a home changes significantly when there are more people. The size of the refrigerator changes. The volume changes.
In my home only one person does not share a bedroom, and that is the 8 month old baby Joey. There's a "boy" room and a "girl" room and the master bedroom. The master bathroom is pathetic. Sometimes we fantasize about moving just so we can have a bathroom to ourselves with a bit more space. And by more space, I mean that two people can be inside it at the same time, that your knees aren't basically brushing against the door when you're sitting on the toilet, that there is enough space for a laundry basket. Our bathroom is about the size of a generous half bathroom, but with a shower/bathtub squeezed into it. Sometimes we fantasize about knocking out the kids' bathroom so we can have more space. But we would never want to share a bathroom with them.
And that's why this show is so intimate. You think it's intimate to talk about your inner feelings, your secret fantasies, your hopes and dreams and other abstract things like that - well, all those things don't even hold a candle to the intimacy of the brass tacks of real living. Like, the couple who had arguments about whether or not they should hire somebody to do the laundry. The husband thought it was ridiculous to do so because it *should* be such an easy task, the wife thought it was ridiculous not to, since it was such a time wasting horrible burden for her. This kind of argument sometimes happens in our home (but sorta in reverse). "Why don't you hire a cleaning lady again?" "Ugh...I don't want to spend money on that." "But if it frees up some of your time, then it could be worth it." "Yeah, but I should be able to handle it." "Um, we have five kids under the age of 9. It's a TON of work." Right now we are stuck at the fact that 1. we are saving for a car purchase, and 2. the cleaning ladies in the past were smokers, which actually defeats the purpose of cleaning. But anyway.
Once in my life, after giving birth to one of our sons, my in-laws came into our bedroom. This was when we lived in Houston. I think I was relaxing in bed or something; I remember that I was really tired. Danny was there. They found a roach (bleaugh those things were everywhere in Houston) in the bathroom, caught it, disposed of it, and so it ended up that we spent about an hour just hanging out in our bedroom. It was nice - I was very comfortable. I felt a kind of closeness there that is hard to explain. I don't think my own parents, who live down the street, have ever been into our bedroom when we were there. I can't even think of any friends who have.
This show films people in their personal spaces, talking out loud about their stuff, how they manage their stuff, and their on-the-spot, unrehearsed feelings. It is intimate without being about sex in any way.
The other reason this show makes great TV is because it inspires you to try it. Actually, the thought of getting all the stuff from a category, selecting/purging, and putting it all back is quite daunting. I decided to watch the show to get an idea about what kind of challenges and setbacks the people go through when they try to experience it. I get the sense that the only way to successfully do this is to have everybody (cough cough Danny) on board. He can't really do anything like this right now because of the time drain it would be. Frankly, neither can I.
But I can take some of the principles of sincerely asking myself, "Does this thing 'spark joy' in me?" and apply them to smaller spaces. I tried this with my piano and piano music.
Basically, there was some clutter (and a lot of books of sheet music) hanging out on my piano. I moved those to a shelf where they are not so visible and in the way. I put some stuff on my piano that really makes me happy every time I see it. And smell it. The candles I put there smell like jasmine, which is one of my favorite smells of all.
But the real application came to my sheet music binder. I have a binder of pieces that I've collected over the years - pieces I either know, want to learn, or feel like I "should" learn. Well, I looked at each piece and decided whether or not I actually liked it. "Is this a piece that I always skip because, to be honest, it's just beyond my skill level?" "Do I always feel crappy about my playing because of all the mistakes I make when I play this?" "I don't even like the sound of Eric Satie; I can play all of the gymnopedes but like, they just...well, if I'm honest, I don't even like how they sound." In the end, I had a binder full of piece after piece of music that I actually love.
It's been about a week. I've started tracking (okay so, what follows is probably a Schrodinger's cat scenario, but oh well) how many days in a row I've played through my binder of 30ish pieces. I've played every day this week, about twice through. That's significant. I sometimes go months without playing.
The thing is, I really, really enjoy being in the space of my piano now. It smells nice. It feels nice. It - well, honestly, my piano is out of tune and pretty much a piece of junk spinet which is an embarrassment to my top-notch musician family members - but to me, it sounds okayish. The difference is HUGE when I play on my parents' upright baby grand. I guess I've always assumed someday I'd inherit that 10k instrument, and since it's down the street, why bother.
Well, why bother indeed. I've been playing a lot more. If this continues as a habit, then who knows. Maybe we could actually splurge and get a better piano. There's really nothing quite like playing music to calm my emotions. Writing is another great source of emoting for me, but sometimes words just fall short, and even when they are successful, they can still leave me feeling a bit unresolved.
I've been co-authoring a book. It's a lot of work, most of which takes place purely inside my head. It's the work of trying to figure out how to do this with somebody else, and it's surprising how emotional it can get. I need an outlet for some of the excess of my feelings, and my piano feels like the right spot for it for right now, since I just need to get away from the words sometimes.
The other thing I like about this show is that everybody I know in the real world has either seen or heard about it. They all have opinions. They all want to talk about their experiences/thoughts/feelings about it. Another bonus is that my friend brought me three giant bags full of little girl clothes sized 4-5 right as we realized that Cora badly needed some new clothes. It was such a blessing to us, and the excess we can give to my niece, which in turn feels really good.
Her ideas are just so positive and uplifting, if at times a bit over the top. But what's not to "spark joy" about that intention?
What's intimate about this show is that it does an excellent job portraying the inner workings of American homes. I am sure that my home has a distinctly Latter-day Saint flavor that differentiates the look, feel, pace, management, even the actual kinds of clutter (think: 9 copies of the King James version of the New Testament scattered around my family room at all times). But there were a lot of really specific details in these peoples' houses that felt familiar. I bet it would be foreign and exotic to a non-American viewer. Also, there are probably some aspects to it that would be disgusting that Americans who have never lived abroad probably never even give a second thought. Most of those probably have to do with the sheer size of the homes, the amount of stuff in them, the loudness of the Americans when they greet guests and visitors, the fact that nobody removes shoes, and a host of other things that I'm probably missing, since I live it.
Except, not really. All the homes featured on the show were in California. None of them had more than 2 children living there - we have five. The space of a home changes significantly when there are more people. The size of the refrigerator changes. The volume changes.
In my home only one person does not share a bedroom, and that is the 8 month old baby Joey. There's a "boy" room and a "girl" room and the master bedroom. The master bathroom is pathetic. Sometimes we fantasize about moving just so we can have a bathroom to ourselves with a bit more space. And by more space, I mean that two people can be inside it at the same time, that your knees aren't basically brushing against the door when you're sitting on the toilet, that there is enough space for a laundry basket. Our bathroom is about the size of a generous half bathroom, but with a shower/bathtub squeezed into it. Sometimes we fantasize about knocking out the kids' bathroom so we can have more space. But we would never want to share a bathroom with them.
And that's why this show is so intimate. You think it's intimate to talk about your inner feelings, your secret fantasies, your hopes and dreams and other abstract things like that - well, all those things don't even hold a candle to the intimacy of the brass tacks of real living. Like, the couple who had arguments about whether or not they should hire somebody to do the laundry. The husband thought it was ridiculous to do so because it *should* be such an easy task, the wife thought it was ridiculous not to, since it was such a time wasting horrible burden for her. This kind of argument sometimes happens in our home (but sorta in reverse). "Why don't you hire a cleaning lady again?" "Ugh...I don't want to spend money on that." "But if it frees up some of your time, then it could be worth it." "Yeah, but I should be able to handle it." "Um, we have five kids under the age of 9. It's a TON of work." Right now we are stuck at the fact that 1. we are saving for a car purchase, and 2. the cleaning ladies in the past were smokers, which actually defeats the purpose of cleaning. But anyway.
Once in my life, after giving birth to one of our sons, my in-laws came into our bedroom. This was when we lived in Houston. I think I was relaxing in bed or something; I remember that I was really tired. Danny was there. They found a roach (bleaugh those things were everywhere in Houston) in the bathroom, caught it, disposed of it, and so it ended up that we spent about an hour just hanging out in our bedroom. It was nice - I was very comfortable. I felt a kind of closeness there that is hard to explain. I don't think my own parents, who live down the street, have ever been into our bedroom when we were there. I can't even think of any friends who have.
This show films people in their personal spaces, talking out loud about their stuff, how they manage their stuff, and their on-the-spot, unrehearsed feelings. It is intimate without being about sex in any way.
The other reason this show makes great TV is because it inspires you to try it. Actually, the thought of getting all the stuff from a category, selecting/purging, and putting it all back is quite daunting. I decided to watch the show to get an idea about what kind of challenges and setbacks the people go through when they try to experience it. I get the sense that the only way to successfully do this is to have everybody (cough cough Danny) on board. He can't really do anything like this right now because of the time drain it would be. Frankly, neither can I.
But I can take some of the principles of sincerely asking myself, "Does this thing 'spark joy' in me?" and apply them to smaller spaces. I tried this with my piano and piano music.
Basically, there was some clutter (and a lot of books of sheet music) hanging out on my piano. I moved those to a shelf where they are not so visible and in the way. I put some stuff on my piano that really makes me happy every time I see it. And smell it. The candles I put there smell like jasmine, which is one of my favorite smells of all.
But the real application came to my sheet music binder. I have a binder of pieces that I've collected over the years - pieces I either know, want to learn, or feel like I "should" learn. Well, I looked at each piece and decided whether or not I actually liked it. "Is this a piece that I always skip because, to be honest, it's just beyond my skill level?" "Do I always feel crappy about my playing because of all the mistakes I make when I play this?" "I don't even like the sound of Eric Satie; I can play all of the gymnopedes but like, they just...well, if I'm honest, I don't even like how they sound." In the end, I had a binder full of piece after piece of music that I actually love.
It's been about a week. I've started tracking (okay so, what follows is probably a Schrodinger's cat scenario, but oh well) how many days in a row I've played through my binder of 30ish pieces. I've played every day this week, about twice through. That's significant. I sometimes go months without playing.
The thing is, I really, really enjoy being in the space of my piano now. It smells nice. It feels nice. It - well, honestly, my piano is out of tune and pretty much a piece of junk spinet which is an embarrassment to my top-notch musician family members - but to me, it sounds okayish. The difference is HUGE when I play on my parents' upright baby grand. I guess I've always assumed someday I'd inherit that 10k instrument, and since it's down the street, why bother.
Well, why bother indeed. I've been playing a lot more. If this continues as a habit, then who knows. Maybe we could actually splurge and get a better piano. There's really nothing quite like playing music to calm my emotions. Writing is another great source of emoting for me, but sometimes words just fall short, and even when they are successful, they can still leave me feeling a bit unresolved.
I've been co-authoring a book. It's a lot of work, most of which takes place purely inside my head. It's the work of trying to figure out how to do this with somebody else, and it's surprising how emotional it can get. I need an outlet for some of the excess of my feelings, and my piano feels like the right spot for it for right now, since I just need to get away from the words sometimes.
The other thing I like about this show is that everybody I know in the real world has either seen or heard about it. They all have opinions. They all want to talk about their experiences/thoughts/feelings about it. Another bonus is that my friend brought me three giant bags full of little girl clothes sized 4-5 right as we realized that Cora badly needed some new clothes. It was such a blessing to us, and the excess we can give to my niece, which in turn feels really good.
Her ideas are just so positive and uplifting, if at times a bit over the top. But what's not to "spark joy" about that intention?
No comments:
Post a Comment