I have taken to using a clean room as an analogy for the mind. If you can make a room free from clutter, it can be used to best effect for it’s true purpose. Just as one might clean a physical room, one can clean the mind. In both cases, it allows the space to be utilized as intended.

With the instance of a clean physical room, it can then be used to create and foster memories, a valuable possession. Or if the room serves a function, such as the kitchen, or a bathroom, those functions will be highlighted and welcoming, without distraction. There is something truly satisfying with the effort to bring such places to a state of clean.

So too, with the mind. When you manage to clear the mind of the daily and existential clutters, it becomes a hospitable place to live. Since this is where you must truly live at all times, this becomes a worthwhile effort. As with cleaning in the real sense, I have found the best approach to be one of daily observation and concerted effort.

In my physical environment, I go out of my way to maintain order. Paradoxically, in my mental environment, chaos reigns supreme at times. This chaos seems to be how my mind assembles the problems within me, immediately surrounding me, and those of the world at large. Somehow, through this apparent chaos, I find a trail of meaning, breadcrumbs of truth while I search for something to truly sate my hunger. The payoff is worth the doubt, in theory, so I allow my mind to shift in and out of this position as it seems inclined to do.

On the outside, however, I appear stoic; unemotional. There is some truth to this, as I wish to free myself from desire, and that appears as a resignation. I can’t help but manifest this in my outward appearance. It isn’t up to me to judge this appearance, though. The eye of the beholder is the only one who can form such a judgment.

The chaos in my mind is not the same as the kind found in a messy living space. Whereas the space in a living room might seem indicative of a bomb going off, the space in my mind seems to be a special sort of bomb. When the debris of thought explosions lands, it lands in categorized piles. It is these piles that seem to be in nonsense order. But there is space between the piles, and the space doesn’t seem entirely random either. My mind makes active attempts to assign value to everything. My perception of relative value shifts, and items are removed as no longer having value. This does make me wonder how many items have been removed throughout my life based solely on this gut-check response, and how many of them might have had unseen facets to remain that way forever. Is this some out of control version of the fear of missing out? As I move along in time I seek wisdom so that I can allow the discarded items to be truly discarded.

Part of me will always wonder, and it’s the same part of me that embraces the chaos which is so frequent in my headspace. Order matters to me in my physical space, because it provides the most freedom for my mind to be whatever it will be at all times. My actions to correct this perceived, real-world chaos may appear autonomous because they truly are. My mind picks up on cues that I have established as disorder, and it pushes the body to act. It feels at once proactive and reactive. There seem to be two minds at play, but both push to achieve order. The chaos mind pushes the keys, the order mind makes sure they get put away when I’m done. Allowing them both to have a voice is as close as I believe I can get to a true say in any matter.