Stacks on Stacks

I look around my apartment and I scorn at the joint.  I see stacks here, there and everywhere.  Let's talk about these stacks: There are not one, not two, but SEVEN pairs of shoes laying across the wooden floor.  That is fourteen individual soles creating a carpet.

There are two vests and three jackets piled over a yellow arm-chair with two purses thrown on the cushion.  Oh, did you want to sit down?

There are two lululemon bags full and a never-once-used humidifier sitting by the front door to be sent to charity and another lululemon bag in a different chair full of clothes to be sent to the dry cleaner down the block.

Books are stacked absolutely everywhere.  On actual book shelves, the kitchen table, the coffee table, the bedside table, my desk, behind the toilet....

Three hooded sweatshirts are draped over the couch corner to my back left, as I sit and write this to you.

Wait, where am I living?  Hell in a laundry basket?  Pigpen's house from Charlie Brown?

Neither.  Actually, I realize that I am living.  Living this big life.  In it, all the way!

And again, and again, and again, I am reminded to be gentle with the judgement.  So much more gentle, please self.

Try to remember that vest flung on the chair, you wore that early this morning on a rad hike with amazing people talking goals and there were deer there, too.  With that pair of Nike shoes on.  Nice life in the mountains.  And those clothes for the dry cleaner mean you actually bought an item of clothing that was not spandex.  Girl, you better celebrate that!  Those hoodies are from your sweet man's chilly bike ride to coach every morning at 4:35AM.  NOTE:  tell him how proud and inspired you are of what he has created here and now and that you love him.  And those full bags by the door are going to make someone really happy, so drop them off already.  And the books, oh the books.  When two book nerd unite, stacks on stacks of books.  Your man said he wants to build things, add it to the honey-do list:  time to build a big ass book shelf, babe.

You can always clean later.  Bask in this big life glow.  Right now.

Be gentle.  Much, much more gentle.