"A big obstruction to tidying, she notes, is the gap between the way many of us live and our ideal lifestyles. Rather than let this disparity discourage us, she recommends clinging to our dreams and doing whatever small things we can to realize them — like putting a photograph of a beautiful landscape on a windowless wall, where we might wish we had a view.... Her own ideal lifestyle involves daily yoga, herbal tea breaks, time with her three young children and the opportunity, when she can grab it, to scrub the floor on her hands and knees. This activity not only releases tension and improves posture but also brings good vibes, she writes: 'The floor is the foundation of the house. Cleaning it with my own hands helps me feel my connection to it.'"
From "Marie Kondo Takes On a New Role: Life Coach/There’s a big difference between the way most of us wish we lived and how we actually do. The tidying guru is back with a new book to help fix that" by Julie Lasky (NYT).
The new book is "Marie Kondo’s Kurashi at Home." That link goes to Amazon, where there's an excerpt from the book that includes defining "kurashi":
In Japanese, the word for “lifestyle” is kurashi.... [I]n the Daijisen dictionary of Japanese terms... it means “the act of living; spending each day; daily life; making a livelihood.” The verb kurasu means “to pass one’s time until sunset; to spend one’s day.” In other words, the ideal kurashi simply means the ideal way of spending our time, and therefore is separate from the “ideal home.”
This realization reminded me of my university days when I lived in Tokyo with my parents. Even though I had my own little room, which in Japanese cities is a huge luxury, I was always full of ideals and aspirations. I dreamed of having a bigger room, a cuter kitchen, a little garden on the balcony, nicer curtains on the windows, and so on....
Oddly enough, once they’ve finished tidying and have realized their ideal lifestyle, many of my clients actually end up with the house—and even the furnishings—of their dreams. I can’t count the times I’ve heard my clients say things like, “Two years after tidying we moved into a house exactly like the one I imagined.” Or “Someone gave me the kind of furniture I’d always wanted.” This is one of the many strange and wonderful effects of tidying that I’ve witnessed through my work....
पोस्ट्स
१३ टिप्पण्या:
So this is basically "The Secret," plus a few minutes of (voluntary) housekeeping. I assume Kondo is already living in the home of her "dreams," but if not, it doesn't matter, because this book is going to bring her another hundred million dollars.
Sounds like Marie is expert at using the psychology of cleaning to decorate the interior of her bank account.
My tidy sister I live with is an account and tax preparer, and has always had her own home. Maybe there was something to last century’s notion that math and geometry are kurachis(ly) fruitful (from an earlier post this morning.)
According to Andrew Huberman, Joe Rogan's personal bro neuroscience guru, doing and completing simple tasks is the best way to get sustainable dopaminergic rewards that leads ultimately to an antifragile psyche and high productivity.
I thank each pair of socks that I roll up before placing mindfully into the drawer. They serve me well and are quite loyal. When they finally give up the ghost, I give them a traditional Viking funeral.
If she's not too busy, my floor could use a good scrubbing...
Howard, if you're rolling up your socks you're doing it wrong. Marie London is quite clear on why you should fold them in pairs, and store them vertically like books on a shelf.
A house? I guess I expected her to live in a kondo.
*grin*
"She admits to talking to her bathtub as she wipes it dry, saying, 'It’s amazing how you’re always so clean and free of mold.'..."
I tell myself the same thing after a shower.
What can I say, Nancy? Some rules are made to be bent. I lay them together side by side like spoons with the heel pressing into the other, say a prayer, then gently roll them, then stand them up like a stubby tube.
Simple household chores have been recommended as a depression cure, a way to find meaning, a fix for what ails you, from forever. Jenna Elfman did a show using this trope in her short-lived comedy series. Admiral McRaven gave the University of Texas grads a 2014 commencement speech advising them to make their beds each morning, and his speech went viral. And a friend who suffered the surprise death of her father told me that despite her entire world being thrown into chaos by this loss, "the goddamn laundry and dishes still need done."
She sounds like so much work.
Don't get me wrong - I respect her commitment to... whatever it is she's committed to, I very much appreciate and strive for tidy and clean spaces, and I have periodically gone through my clothes and household goods with a sort of half-assed "does it bring me joy?" thing in mind. But honestly, I don't have a single pair of socks or spoon that brings me joy; I have quite a few that do their job, so I keep them and just try not to acquire extras. (I have 2, maybe 3 pairs of pants that do actually bring me joy. It's not that NOTHING in my life has that capacity.)
Maybe the problem is me: maybe my joy threshold is just too high.
I had a life coach once. He benched me.
She doesn't clean her own bathroom.
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