But this room had a secret. Behind that closed door lay a closet ... not just an ordinary closet, a closet with a mind.
Complexity and disarray ruled in that dark, shut-off space. Daily, captives would be taken ... unsuspecting belongings tossed, stashed, or imprisoned within those cold walls. Starkly contrasting the tranquility and warmth of the room on the opposite side of that door, this place was a ravenous mouth swallowing everything and anything that came near enough to be seized. Once inside, there were no rules ...
The knowledge of this secret burgeoned inside my own mind, as a grain of sand inside an oyster ... slightly irritating at first, but after a short time, unbearably cumbersome. It became painfully clear that a war of minds was in order, and I was determined to triumph. This small, narrow-minded, disheveled place was in for a surprise attack.
I armed myself with a very fine A.A. Milne quote, "Organizing is what you do before you do something, so that when you do it, it is not all mixed up." I made a plan. I strategized, calculated, and readied myself for battle, all the while feeling a tiny bit childish for allowing a closet to get the better of me. And then it dawned on me ... it wasn't just a closet with A mind ... it was a closet with MY mind.
The grain of sand that had irritated to the point of intolerable was NOT the secret of a messy closet ... it was my own burden-filled brain, spilling over into a tangible space. The closet was my very own reflection. And now there were but two choices ... either leave it in dysfunction and chaos, or restore it to harmony.
I chose harmony.
If there is any way that this tiny grain of sand can become a pearl of wisdom, let it be in the outing of my own tumultuous mind. As I restored order to that small space, I regained some clarity of mind as well. Something about being able to physically remove and re-organize the chaos that had become so heavy, served to de-stress my mind in the process. The realization that if one stuffs, tosses carelessly, or simply closes the door until a more opportune moment, then the mind (and closet) becomes a prison where the inmates are all too easily forgotten and neglected, opened my eyes to the plight of my own afflictions. The things that get locked away, in the hopes that they will just disappear, are the millstones of the mind ... and all that comes of not freeing them is further slavery to them.
These days the door of my closet stays open ... though it is still a work in progress, it is a constant reminder of what I am striving for ... the restoration of harmony to an otherwise chaotic space. Slowly, but surely, the mind follows suit.
