Bigger Better Faster More

I still believe that less is more. But sometime less is, well, less.

But "less" and "more" are not apples to apples. It's more like apples to rambutans. Or apples to kangaroo jerky. (Not that I've ever tried kangaroo jerky. Or a rambutan for that matter.)

I've written less, but I've worked more.

I've written less, but I've baked and cooked a lot more.

I've written less, but I've read more.

I've written less, but I've watched more HGTV. And TLC. Bravo, too. (Darn Housewives and their over the top, un-relatable melodramas.)

Less and more. Apples and rambutans. Writing and working and everything else. They need not be exclusive. They can not be exclusive. There's room for it all.

It's about balance. Taking a million (or more) teeny, tiny steps in the right direction. Saying no to the good--in order to make room for the great.

Oldest lesson in the book? Almost. Am I willing to give it another run? You bet.

_________________________________________________________________________  © 2012 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because Rome wasn't built in a day, ya know? (Photo by semuthutan via Creative Commons.)

On New Year's Resolutions and the Soul of 9

I've always loved the new year and its promise of a fresh start. Ironically though, I've been making the same resolutions for the better of 20 years now. Eat more vegetables. Watch less TV and read more books. Get more exercise and more sleep. Write more and submit my work for publication. 

I'd outline grand and precise plans in these areas, all designed to help me succeed. And then, when I'd get the slightest bit off track, I'd cast that goal aside and move on to something I could accomplish. Like watching every episode of House Hunters and What Not to Wear or walking to get a vanilla soft-serve cone with rainbow sprinkles on top for dinner.

I'm not lazy--nor am I a slacker. But I've always had trouble sticking with things. Even things that I enjoy. Turns out, it's my Soul of 9 that's holding me back.

Let me back up a bit: A few weeks ago, my kundalini yoga teacher was talking about the 10 bodies--a way of understanding and restoring balance in your life. Tantric numerology offers a window into our own bodies. Ever the curious one, I went online, entered my birthdate, and out popped my tantric reading.

My soul number--which identifies what's at the core of my consciousness--is a 9. It says that I'm very hard on myself (yep) and that I have a tendency to give up on things after a short period of time rather than sticking with them and mastering them (yep). It goes on to explain that, "without mastery, life is a mystery" to me and that "my joy in life will come from mastering things." On the one hand, I feel like this is just generic enough to apply to most all of us; but I have enough experiential evidence to know that my internal critic is snarkier than most.

So, how can I overcome this? The numerology report recommended a 1,000-day meditation. Just seeing the words "1,000 day" made me want to reach for the remote and flip on HGTV. But the perfectionist in me isn't willing to give up quite that easily this time.

After years and years of resolving to do all of these lofty and ambitious things and only making marginal success, I've decided to change my approach. In the spirit of Christine Kane's Resolution Revolution, my goal for 2010 is simply to finish.

Finish. That's it. Just one word. The goal being to infuse anything and everything that I aspire to with this intention. Those unread and partly read books on my shelves? Finish. My to-be-written essay ideas? Finish. My desire to eat vegan for two meals each day? Finish. My plans to run a 5k? Finish. You get the picture.

With just one word to aspire to, there's no room for drama, backstory, or excuses. Just do it.

"Don't fear the long road."                                                                                              --Michael Franti, Never Too Late

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less is more--especially when it comes to setting a clear New Year's resolution. (Photo by Flowery L*u*z*a* via Creative Commons.)

Just Do It: Clear the Clutter

Decluttering FOO (Friend of Oprah) Peter Walsh claims all you need is  15 minutes a day, every day, to wrangle the piles around your house. The charmingly downhome FlyLady swears by the 27-Fling Boogie to rid yourself of all the junk that's bogging you down. Even my kindergarten teacher, Miss Panda, had a quick, effective technique that she called Chipmunk Clean-Up to get us to put away all the crayons, books, puzzles, and blocks that we had scattered about.

All three had the same idea: just do it. Chop chop. No dilly-dallying. All too often, however, I'll get sidetracked in my cleaning pursuits--simply because I don't have a plan of attack. I see messes, I see piles, I see some really boring tasks ahead of me and my instinct is to see what's on HGTV. Maybe if I watch just one (more) show about other people's houses, then I'll be inspired to tackle the clutter.

So, tonight, I turned on some rousing music, set the kitchen timer for 15 minutes, and went to it. I emptied the dishwasher, washed the pots, loaded the new round of dirty dishes, recycled that red wine vinegar bottle from three days ago, put last week's grocery list and some random receipts in the recycling bin, gave the stovetop a quick scrub and the countertops a wipe down, put away two pairs of my boots and three pairs of shoes, folded the reusable grocery bags, and yes--dear FlyLady--I even shined my sink. (To her standards, no, but anything is better than nothing, right?)

All in 15 minutes? Well, not quite. I tacked another 8 minutes onto the timer, but the kitchen is pretty darn spiffy right now, if I do say so myself.

So, what are you waiting for? Go clear the clutter--one pile at a time.

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--both mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. (image from The Household Helper)