This year, I will reflect on the four cardinal virtues through daily practice and meditation, intentionally focusing on one per season. After starting the year with prudence, I continued with temperance – or the capacity to contain appetites and moderate sensual pleasures.
I initially planned a complete house declutter for my last week of Lent, discarding 12 items a day for 6 days. But inspired by a workshop on minimalism, by the end of Saturday, I had already built a pile in my living room with more than 72 things. So instead, I decided to focus on 6 areas where I face a form of clutter – and look for ways to simplify them. This will also serve as preparation for a personal retreat I am planning at the end of May, coinciding with my last week reflecting on temperance.
I started with learning. I have a list of things I want to learn or better understand – oral and written Chinese, global governance institutions, the limbic system, Qi Gong, facilitation techniques, indigenous languages, how to better relax. I also know various ways to learn each of those things, through reading lists, mentors, regular practice, a course, an experience, or a project. But I have never articulated these two dimensions together. The solution to my cluttered goals was as simple as making a list with three columns, what, how, and importantly, to the right, why?
When I consider my finances, I experience a mild sense of overwhelm. This makes no direct sense: both stocks and flows are in good order. But here is what I realised: in France, after passing a couple of competitive exams, I started an iron-rice-bowl career as an educator. I do more exciting and important things in Australia than I did or would have in France – and I am probably better off financially – but I face much greater short and long-term uncertainty, compounded by irregular patterns of income and spending. So. this is what I did: an Excell spreadsheet with my predicted budget, month by month, over the coming year. I plotted various scenarios on various sheets, none was catastrophic, and I felt nicely calm.
Goals are very prone to cluttering. They are, by their very nature, in a state of flux and change: once a goal is accomplished, another takes its place. I spent some quality time at the beginning of the year setting goals, but after just 4 months, things have already lost their clarity, and for many, the temptation to refocus or simply give up is high. To solve this, I believe the solution is to take inspiration from the non-profit world, and establish a personal theory of change, that articulates my goals (as outputs) in relation to outcomes and impact. This was too much for a full day, but may be the core component of my personal retreat.
When I migrated from France, I folded thirty years of life in one cubic metre. Most of that was books. My library forms a sensual extension of my brain: I like spending time with it, looking at the shelves, remembering books I loved, or anticipating the pleasure of reading new ones. In line with the French tradition, I organise my books mainly by language and country of origin. As my interest and attention shifted towards Asia in the last ten years, some of those sections inflated, while I cut through others to make room. But a deep reset was due: on Wednesday, I clearly separated my ‘China books’ from my ‘other Asian books’, and brought together my slowly growing collective of Arabic and African books. Now the bookshelves are breathing again.
On Thursday morning, I walked through my house pointing at various spaces: the two drawers next to the oven, here is clutter; the green salad bowl by the bathroom sink, here is clutter; the shelf in my study where I keep stationery, here is clutter. I made a complete list, cleared all the bathroom spaces, and made time – in the future – to go through the rest, slowly clearing the house of its various blockages.
I grew up an only child, liking books and movies. I enjoy my current social life, where the boundaries of friendship and work often blur, as do pleasure and duty. But I I was never properly trained for a life where I’m expected to network and gather business cards. There are dear friends I don’t see quite enough, and events I regret not attending. Rather than a complex plan to decide in advance where I might spend my evenings over the next month, I might organise regular gatherings at my place – as my partner and I once did – and as for outside commitment – maybe take the chance of organisers disliking me, and decide on the day.