Follow-up! To this bit I wrote about my relationship with making piles of things.

It’s part of an ongoing process/investigation:

Figuring out why I create these giant piles of iguanas and doom, what their purpose is, and what needs to happen next.

So I’m documenting both the piles themselves and everything I know about them, as well as everything that I’m trying/learning/noticing/perceiving/experiencing in the investigation.

And I’m also documenting the variety of experiments that I’m using in this destuckification practice. And letting you peek.

Hey, piles. What do I know about you?

Oh, piles! Piles of paper, piles of information in my head, piles of Direct Messages on Twitter, piles of messages at the Frolicsome Bar, collections of things.

Why I make them

To not forget what is important.

To keep projects in view (even though I know from experience that the second one lands in the pile, it’s gone). But there is something calming about knowing that at least I will stumble onto it eventually. The security of knowing that it’s there.

So that’s the mission. Does it work?

No. Because knowing that it’s there also stresses me the hell out. And the only time I consistently look at piles is while depiling every other month or so.

Then what will help me remember what is important? Hmmmm.

How I make them

Everywhere. On my computer. In my documents. At the Playground. In the bedroom. In the gwish room.

I make them because the pattern says build.

The purpose they serve is…

Aside from reminders that don’t work? Hopefulness.

Oh! To hide iguanas.*

* Translation! Iguana = anything you don’t feel like doing.

Like that letter from X. I didn’t want to look at it because looking at it was reminding me that I had to deal with it, and that was depressing. Since I wasn’t ready to deal yet, I stuck it in a pile.

Ha! I am like the Witness Protection Program for iguanas.

I protect iguanas. I’m trying to protect me from them, but in effect what happens (bing! shivanautical epiphany!) is that I am protecting them from me.

On one level, there’s this beautiful attempt to be helpful: solidify, structure, keep everything together. I am compiling to create more order. Because better a pile than 70,000 papers all over the place.

On another level, obfuscation and hiding: keep the iguana away from me. But not too far away.

Really, I should thank my psyche for being so creative and for coming up with the best possible solution it could. That’s kind of sweet.

What I know about them, me and our relationship

Apparently I still need them. Both the piles and the iguanas.

I need safety. And the iguanas need safety.

Also needed are systems and forms to emerge that will hold things differently.

So this is about need, and releasing all these symbolic pieces that are not working.

I want to be able to say YES to needing things like support, creativity, order, freedom, hiding places.

And to identify the part of me who desperately needs worry, fear, iguanas, something hanging over my head what’s that called, dread. Ah, the dread.

Where the pain is

Monsters, iguanas and deadlines, oh my!

But really? Why am I keeping an iguana compound in my space? That isn’t helpful to anyone.

So I need:

  1. structures and containers for things to flow into so the piles pile less frequently.
  2. And when there is a pile, it still needs a box to live in. A home! And that box needs a date and a plan. And rituals that can be fun.

Ooh! Idea! International Iguana Depiling Day. I.I.D.D. Once a month. And time to work on the Book of Me.

Also the home for the Pile could be like a dollhouse. Or a Cardboard Box that is a house, with a door and a chimney. Oh, adorable. I want to make it a home.

Oh! My piles are pieces of me that are homeless. I identify with them. Just like there are safe rooms for my various selves, of course there is a safe room for my pile. But not to keep it safe from me. To keep us all in a general state of safety.

Oh! And I can spray the pile with the magical spray-bottle-of-making-things-better. And other rituals for it that can be fun.

What they symbolize

The parts of me that need containers, boundaries, a home. Lost little orphans who need love, support and acknowledgment.

Why I need them

To remind me of my creativity. To remember that I am the queen.

Why I’m done with them

Because the queen needs spaciousness to create. And piles are not conducive to spaciousness.

What is the connection between my past and piles:

There are people in my life who need boulders. Friction. They choose the way of friction.

Not out of intention but because they are disconnected.

This new thing is about committing to this new way of EASE and FLOW instead of living in friction.

The version of me who is done with them.

Ah. The me who knows about this ease and flow thing.

There is spaciousness. Support. Structure. Shiva Nata.

Sweetie, you are moving into the world where that old way cannot exist anymore. One day piles will really truly be like cigarettes. Or sugar. You just won’t need them anymore.

And you won’t even remember why you did.

What I don’t know yet.

How. But I’m closer to finding out than I realize. And that’s what the next Rally is for. Rally!

Playing. And the comment zen blanket fort.

My goodness. I have no idea if any of this makes sense to anyone who isn’t me. I was pretty spectacularly brain-melty from all the awesome Shiva Nata we’d been doing before writing this. God I love Rally.

What I would love:

If you wanted to think out loud about any of those questions, investigate your own relationship with piling, or do some of the super-speedy word association thing too.

If you would say Vhoooooosh! Which is the sound of stuckness dissolving and all the right spaces opening up.

What I would not love:

Please no advice, recommendations or pep talks. I am sharing a really personal and intimate process in my own way and in my own timing, and I need lots of spaciousness with that.

As always, we all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff. It’s a process.

Love to all the commenter mice, the Beloved Lurkers and everyone who reads.