I spent the majority of my corporate career in sales jobs that required a storage unit for all my samples. Even though I’m not a natural “organizer”, if you ever visited my storage unit back then, you would have found it to be neatly organized. You’d have found a nice little Rubbermaid stack of drawers with all the essentials; scissors, packing tape, a stapler, a clipboard for writing, a calculator, a flashlight, and even bottled water. You probably would have noticed how clean the floors were and seen the broom and dustpan in the corner.
Why?
I’m not sure. For some odd reason, I enjoyed being in there. Every time I visited to count shipments or pick up samples, I spent extra time tidying that space. It was, so oddly, like a random little sanctuary from the rest of my life.
Here’s where it gets interesting.
As much as I abhor the idea of Americans owning so much stuff that we sometimes pay to store our extra stuff in big metal buildings, we currently pay for a storage unit. Suffice it to say, between furniture that belonged to loved ones now passed, HeartStories event items and the hard top to my jeep. . . it seems to make sense for the moment. Mostly because it’s keeping our little garage livable at home.
I’ve noticed that I like being there.
It’s so strange. There’s absolutely nothing to do there. No samples to count. No dustpan for cleaning. There isn’t even any music playing in the hallway. But from the moment I open the door to the hallway and roll up the door to our unit, there is an odd comfort that comes over me. I’m usually in a huge hurry, needing to grab something quick. . . and yet, something in me wants to linger.
I have an idea.
I think it has to do with the familiarity of being surrounded by things I don’t have room for in my everyday life, but still hold value and importance for me. Like the creaky antique rocking chair where I sat, exhausted and overjoyed, rocking my babies. The paintings that used to hang in our living room. Photo albums with pictures friends from years gone by. All the pillows, frames and decor we use for our Girl’s Night’s Out.
It’s like a trip down memory lane.
Maybe the serenity of that quiet hallway reminds me of a time when life was a little more simple. Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe I’ve wired some neural pathway that somehow, oddly connects a storage unit to simplicity. Isn’t that a contradiction? I’m not sure it matters.
What matters is paying attention.
What matters is slowing down enough to notice what brings you peace and finding more of that in your life. Am I suggesting you get a storage unit and go hang out there?
Um, no.
Am I going to spend more time in my storage unit with a yoga mat and a candle?
No.
But I’m paying attention to the feeling and how it’s connected to things that are still deeply important to me. Things like my family, my friends, my work and living out my story.
What brings you a sense of peace in the middle of your crazy life right now?
Are you paying attention?
Maybe you should.
to more love,
Crystal
