The Oddments that Remain: A November Project

Oddments.

A delicious word.

Oddments are the casually “left-to-gather-dust” artifacts of our lives.

Unedited.  Uncurated.  Back of the drawer stuff.

Single buttons, a rusty washer, ribbons from forgotten outfits, expired credit cards, samples of hand cream.

Were an archeologist to graze on your less-visited drawers, she’d find a treasure trove from which to spin a story of the soul whose years were shaped by what they hold.

I’ve horded broken ornaments, books with spines cracked from use, a pair of Chinese red silk pajamas.
In so many ways, our oddments speak of a far more interesting person than the more polished version we will put on display for the holidays.
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This season I’ve turned to my oddments with Marie Kondo fervor.  Out with the excess.  Files for unwritten books, class rosters a quarter century old.  Art supplies.  Letters.

And the journals.  A half century of them.

Much in them I would be happy to have sleep.  First and second and third drafts of ongoing conflicts and unresolved questions.  The boredom of endless self-scrutiny.

And yet, and yet.  I find such forgotten diamonds in the roughage.

Moments of insight.  Scenes and conversations.  A “rafago” of elements.  A gallimaufry.  A hodge podge.

What remains, it turns out, are selvedges that prove to be the foundations of whatever change and growth and new life has arisen in me, season after season, year after year.  Like clues to the mystery of the self, they are an array of evidence that can only engender wonder — as unlikely and unplanned as any packet of wildflower seeds.

If, like me, you are a journal keepers (and horder) of a certain age, you are beginning to ask “what to do” with all of the stuff.

How do we prune without losing our essence?

Here is a suggestion that takes the onerous and obligatory and turns it into a sacrament of meaning making:

A Bespoke Commonplace Journal

A WINTER PROJECT :
A BESPOKE COMMONPLACE JOURNAL

Supplies:

1.         A small, beautiful notebook that you can “tab”
2.        Colors markers (highlighters, or Sharpers or Ohuhu Oahu markers)
3.        Your phone camera

 

Instructions:

Set aside a quiet two hours, to start.  Begin to reread your journals, starting at the point you feel ready to dive in.  It may be at the beginning.  It may be at a vital juncture in your life, or a season.  Or, be random.

1.        Create Tabs:

You will come upon stories, conversations, scenes that are important to you.  Below are several categories you might consider creating “tab” for.

• • this I loved
  • this I suffered
  • this was given me but I didn’t appreciate until now
  • this I struggled to come to grips with
  • this I saw, heard, touched, tasted
  • this brought me alive
  • this made me grateful for my life

Copy out small elements into the tabs you’ve created — sentences, or words, that will capture the significant “oddment” in a way that you can preserve.

Don’t rush this.  Don’t do it on the computer.

Make the process as beautiful as possible.  Light a candle.  Set music you love to listen to.

Allow the journey into your oddments to open to reverie.  Draw, create small collages, or color blocks.  Create whatever will preserve the pieces that you value.

There is no hurry.  This is a sifting, a gathering, a sinking deep into the compost of your past, to bring it with you as a vital document:  this was my life.

If you are feeling brave and like sharing, please post a page or an outtake of your efforts!

Namaste.