Basement cat time travels to the 80's

That soundtrack in my head has a very 80's feel to it right now. I have finally settled down to sort through the clutter in my basement. It's a much harder task than I thought, but not for the reasons I suspected. I figured that the actual decision-making process would be the thing to trip me up. My slightly ADD brain can't always fit objects into the usual suggested categories of keep/toss/undecided. It always comes up with shades in between. Like, Keep-but-need-to-fix-first or Hang-up-on-the-wall-when-I-find-a-frame or Put-on-knicknack-shelf-when-I-actually-put-it-up. My logical husband is really good at simple categorizations, but this is my stuff. I need to sort it. And so, while that is a bit of the problem, it isn't the whole.

The main problem is that when you sort through really old clutter, much of which consists of childhood memorabilia and college books/stuff it isn't just simple sorting. It's opening up your subconscious and diving in headfirst. If the unexamined life is not worth living, well, mine should be very worthy right about now. At this point it's impossible to *stop* examining it. Every book, every toy, every award, every bit of the flotsam and jetsam of my life is a key in the memory lock of my brain. Every success and failure, every bad habit and old thought pattern, things I've put behind me and things I only thought I had - it all comes floating to the surface in this process. Nobody told me I was going to need a therapist when I was done. I guess part of me knew this, which is why it got put off for so long.

There is something very spiritual about it. Though it vacillates between the utter relief of baggage unloaded and the utter pain of feeling like I've ripped the bandage off wounded places in my soul. It's cleansing, but also tiring beyond belief. And it's more than a little unsettling to realized how much and in which ways I've changed as a person over the years. It's a liquid diet cleanse of the spirit, and about as much fun to live through. And since regular day-to-day life doesn't stop in order for me to do this my life has taken on an odd sort of Time Traveler's Wife quality. One moment I'm lost back in 1982 and the next flung forward into 2013 when my daughter calls out with a question or I have to go referee yet another sibling fight.

It's not making the whole dark-night-of-the-soul any easier either. Especially since my spiritual journey is extremely evident in every inch of what I'm sorting. Books that I remember running out to buy in hopes they would help me solve a spiritual question or conundrum. Classes that uplifted, and ones that made me half ill (found my college dissection kit). The realization hits hard that even one's deeply held spiritual beliefs and sense of self are not permanent, but rather fluid. Buffeted by hardship and bolstered by culture, what we think of as "ours" is much less "us" and more often a reflection of our times and circumstance. It's like finding out that gravity isn't actually permanent. That the center doesn't always hold.

This whole process is hard to convey in the context of our sound byte, need-to-know-yesterday technology infused society. I don't have the brain power to process the past and contemplate the future simultaneously. I've opened Pandora's box and I'm stuck in the very uncomfortable Now. It's weird seeing in my mind's eye the memory frames of my life slipping into place - like that part in every movie where the main character finally figures out what's going on and what needs to be done, buoyed up by suitably noble or desperately depressing music (depending on genre).

I am getting an amusing look at culture, though. That's an unexpected plus. Seeing what ideas have lasted, what trends have continued, and what ones died an untimely death (and others that should have). Amusing myself by actually listening to the music of my childhood while I work. Realizing that as much as I loved Air Supply in middle school they really were quite terrible. And that as much as I used to tease my husband about his sometimes depressing music choices that much of *his* music has stood the test of time. Seeing through the lens of the culture I grew up in how much I've changed and deepened as a person. How I get from the inside out that conversation from Doctor Who's "Blink" between Sally Sparrow and her friend:

Sally Sparrow: "I like old things; they make me feel sad."
Kathy Nightingale: "What's good about sad?"
Sally Sparrow: "It's happy, for deep people."

So, if anyone needs me for the next month or so, I'll be in my basement, listening to bad pop music and good classic rock, putting the pieces of my life in perspective before the next leg of the journey begins.

When a song breaks you open....

Sometimes when I notice I haven't written anything in a long time, I realize it's because I have not too little to say, but too much. How do you sum up over 6 months worth of thoughts and musings that never got written down? Spiritual journeys should come with a warning label. "Do not open closet door to inspect personal skeletons as they will fall down on your head" Or something like that. I always marvel at people who tell me that their relationship with God is constantly "wonderful", "amazing", "such a blessing". Some of these people should come with a warning label too. I find them hard to be around while my journey has taken a turn to "dark night of the soul". Chirpy Christian memes are no help to me right now.


But music is, and always has been. I laugh about the "soundtrack in my head" but many days it's what keeps me sane. About a year or so ago, I realized that I kept hearing all these great songs on the radio while I was driving around - but promptly forgot about them before reaching home where I could write them down. I decided to make a concerted effort to assemble a list of them. I'd scribble down whatever I could learn about each song on whatever was handy or type in my own shorthand on my iPod - many times only being able to grab a line of the chorus to Google later. Slowly the list got built up to a couple dozen songs. Then, technology (not always my friend) intervened and one day my iPod glitched and I was staring at a blank Notes section. Drat.

A few months later, I decided to start recreating the list as best I could from memory (with such amusing designations as "that new Coldplay song" and "song the Black Eyed Peas did at Superbowl" - you know, really informative stuff. Kept listening, kept making notes, mostly rebuilt the list.

And then one day this song came on. It was probably on the list the first time. I remember thinking "Wow, what a great song" when I'd heard it that first time. But this time - I was a captive audience in the car - and I really *listened* to it. It cracked me open and my soul started leaking out. Since driving and crying are *not* 2 things that go great together I had to stop the latter to safely continue the former. But it stuck in that place deep inside and stayed.


Evanescence "Bring Me to Life"