I had minor surgery a couple of days ago and after a day of pretty much sleeping it off, I've been up to my ears in exploration--watching videos on YouTube and reading. Spiritual teacher Caroline Myss has said that when we find what we believe to be a spiritual truth, we should seek to find it elsewhere. She generally has in mind other religious traditions: Myss says key truths of most religions can be found in some manidestation in others, often several others.
My frame of reference for spirituality extends beyond religion, but with that said, I believe that when we find what we believe to be truth anywhere in the world, we will find it multiple places. As those who have been reading recently know, I've just finished my certification as a health coach, and this little post-surgery respite has given me the opportunity to start reading the stack of health-related books that have accumulated by my desk over several years. There's at least 80 per cent congruence (maybe more) between the content in all of them, and yet each brings a different nuance or something new.
What has continued to astound me has been the intersection between health and happiness. It doesn't surprise me at all that we are happier when we are healthier, but it seems to me that the things that we do to be healthier are the same things that we do to be happier. The causality may not be between health and happiness, but rather between a set of behaviors that cause us to be both healthier and happier.
My old friend "laughter" shows up a lot. Today I've been reading Blue Zones--9 Lessons for Living Longer from the people who've lived the longest, by Dan Buettner. The book is based on research he did for National Geographic on regions of the world where a disproportionate percentage of the population lives past 100. There's even a subset of the "blue zones": semi-supercentenarians--referring to regions with a disproportionate percentage of the population over 110. As he did his research, Buettner and his team traveled to often-remote regions to interview those over 100. I was struck by how often the centenarians burst out in laughter.
Laughter is a characteristic of both health and happiness. A couple of years ago when completing my certification to be a laughter yoga teacher, we were given a full page of benefits of laughter, most of them were health enhancements. For instance, one minute of laughter has the aerobic impact of 10 minutes on a rowing machine.
Dr. Martin Seligman, father of positive psychology/psychology of happiness, has said that lack of laughter is a challenge to the happiness of those who live alone because they don't laugh enough.
Spiritually, laughter is often observed in those who are truly "light." If you've ever watched a video or interview of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, you know that he often bursts out in contagious belly laughter.
It has been said that the road to Hell is paved by good intentions. When I set out to live my life with intention and to share my journey with others, it was specifically so that my life's intentions would not be squandered. My intentions are to have a life of health, happiness, and wholeness that will grow me spiritually.
Yet, despite knowing the benefits of laughter to health, happiness, and my spirit and my pathetic moaning and groaning about lack of laughter in my life, at least 18 months after completing my Laughter Yoga certification, I have yet to teach a single class. As I've been leaning into my transition, teaching Laughter Yoga (LY) must be part of my health coaching practice. Laughter is clearly a component of both health and happiness; it would seem it would be neglectful of me to omit it. I've just drug out my LY textbook, and I am throwing it into this soup I am making called "My Life as a Health Coach."
Showing posts with label positive psychology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label positive psychology. Show all posts
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Synthesis
"When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." This much-quoted thought is most often credited to Buddha Siddhartha Gautama Shakyamuni, or to many of us, just "The Buddha."
I'd like to alter the line just a bit. "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear...and appear...and appear." So often, it seems that when I start working on a spiritual lesson, everywhere I turn I bump into a slightly nuanced version of the same lesson. Like a fine crystal, every way I turn it, I see unique impressions which describes a nuance of the lesson.
The last two evenings I've written about slightly different versions of seeing lessons through a lens of letting them support me in experiencing the beauty and wonder of spiritual growth as an endpoint but through which I must tiptoe through lessons. Today brought two very distinct, yet remarkably similar extensions of those lessons, or "teachers," if you prefer.
"People's Pharmacy" is one of my favorite sources of well-researched health information, and I've been a faithful listener for over 25 years (and an avid reader of their newspaper column for years before that.) When I moved to DC, I could no longer get the show. Since discovering the podcast about a month ago, I've been devouring many back episodes. As consequence, I am not sure when ones to which I listened today aired. The show's guest was Matthew Sanford, a yoga instructor and paraplegic. He lost use of his body from the chest down when he was 13, if I recall correctly 38 years ago.+
Because I've had significant body function/pain issues over the last 25 years, I listened carefully as he described the change he had experienced in his relationship with his body. (You might say he was rewriting his story.) His rehabilitation programs taught him how to overcome his disability by using parts of his body that were able to do so to facilitate movement through the world. But, Matthew missed his body and didn't like the image of dragging non-functioning parts of his body through the world. (My words, not his.) He began doing yoga to assist his experience of how his mind and body connected: his body is his body to be experienced not overcome.
As I listened, I drifted to the years I spent in rehab. At first, I wanted someone to make it better, and I spent years just doing with determination whatever I needed to "get back to normal." As soon as I'd experience a modicum of time with minimal pain, I'd stop doing my exercises, and soon I'd be in pain again. Ten or 12 years ago...maybe more...I had an aha! moment when I realized that if I was going to live with a minimal amount of pain, my physical therapy exercises were going to be an everyday part of life. I wouldn't like it but I would commit to doing them, day in and day out. It was a good decision. Although I do fall into periods of pain from time to time, if I faithfully do my exercises, most of the time I am relatively pain free.
I was doing a light jog on the treadmill as I was listening to the interview with Matthew. Mirrors all around me showed that I was in pretty good shape. A personal trainer who had worked with me last week had pronounced my routine as pretty thorough and had little to suggest that I add. I was able to walk 65 minutes on a springlike day yesterday.
As I listened to Matthew talk about the change in his thinking about his body, I realized that, perhaps less consciously than Matthew, I too had changed. I've moved beyond having to do exercises every day to stay out of pain to being delighted with this machine which is carrying me through life so effectively. If I were able to stop the exercises without pain, I wouldn't want to do that now. That is how I've come to show my body love...as it is.
Less than an hour later, I bumped into another teacher: an article by Dr. Tim Lomas, Ph.D., in Psychology Today.* He wrote about the approaching 20th anniversary of the positive psychology movement, launched by Dr. Martin Seligman. The piece was both retrospective and prospective, attempting to point the way forward for the growing psychology of happiness movement. The article described three stages: thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. For the first part of its history, psychology had been concerned with how to get us out of misery--the "thesis."
Then along came Seligman with the antithesis: the point of psychology should be to have us experience well-being and happiness. In so doing, all the miserable parts of our lives were castigated or discounted as negative or lacking in value. But, the article proclaimed, there is usefulness from fear: it allows us to assess risk. Lomas continues that "'anti-social' emotions like anger can impel one to resist injustice, and drive progressive social change."*
Finally, Lomas predicts the future of psychology as being a synthesis that values the downsides while supporting our individual quests for well-being. As he described this integration of resistance of the negative while supporting happiness and well-being, it seemed to me that what he was describing for our psyches was a parallel to what Matthew and I had come to in our relationship with our bodies and what I've been coming to over the last two days in this blog. There is value in the struggle with the parts of ourselves that we might not like, but as we learn to accept the richness of the whole, we enable our souls to reach their potentials.
This is not a new concept to me. In fact, I wrote about it in Leading from the Heart, which is also marking its 20th anniversary. I actually looked through the book this evening to get my exact quote, but I was unable to locate it; the gist is that we see the world in black and white when in truth it is a million shades of gray. (That was when shades of gray weren't X-rated.) When we only focus on what we perceive as bad--disability or misery--or good--overcoming and happiness, we lose the texture of the fullness of our existence. Wholeness lies in the synthesis--accepting the fullness of our possibilities.
+https://www.peoplespharmacy.com/2017/01/19/show-1065-how-can-yoga-benefit-everyone-fit-and-flexible-or-not/
*https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/finding-light-in-the-darkness/201602/second-wave-positive-psychology-introduction
I'd like to alter the line just a bit. "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear...and appear...and appear." So often, it seems that when I start working on a spiritual lesson, everywhere I turn I bump into a slightly nuanced version of the same lesson. Like a fine crystal, every way I turn it, I see unique impressions which describes a nuance of the lesson.
The last two evenings I've written about slightly different versions of seeing lessons through a lens of letting them support me in experiencing the beauty and wonder of spiritual growth as an endpoint but through which I must tiptoe through lessons. Today brought two very distinct, yet remarkably similar extensions of those lessons, or "teachers," if you prefer.
"People's Pharmacy" is one of my favorite sources of well-researched health information, and I've been a faithful listener for over 25 years (and an avid reader of their newspaper column for years before that.) When I moved to DC, I could no longer get the show. Since discovering the podcast about a month ago, I've been devouring many back episodes. As consequence, I am not sure when ones to which I listened today aired. The show's guest was Matthew Sanford, a yoga instructor and paraplegic. He lost use of his body from the chest down when he was 13, if I recall correctly 38 years ago.+
Because I've had significant body function/pain issues over the last 25 years, I listened carefully as he described the change he had experienced in his relationship with his body. (You might say he was rewriting his story.) His rehabilitation programs taught him how to overcome his disability by using parts of his body that were able to do so to facilitate movement through the world. But, Matthew missed his body and didn't like the image of dragging non-functioning parts of his body through the world. (My words, not his.) He began doing yoga to assist his experience of how his mind and body connected: his body is his body to be experienced not overcome.
As I listened, I drifted to the years I spent in rehab. At first, I wanted someone to make it better, and I spent years just doing with determination whatever I needed to "get back to normal." As soon as I'd experience a modicum of time with minimal pain, I'd stop doing my exercises, and soon I'd be in pain again. Ten or 12 years ago...maybe more...I had an aha! moment when I realized that if I was going to live with a minimal amount of pain, my physical therapy exercises were going to be an everyday part of life. I wouldn't like it but I would commit to doing them, day in and day out. It was a good decision. Although I do fall into periods of pain from time to time, if I faithfully do my exercises, most of the time I am relatively pain free.
I was doing a light jog on the treadmill as I was listening to the interview with Matthew. Mirrors all around me showed that I was in pretty good shape. A personal trainer who had worked with me last week had pronounced my routine as pretty thorough and had little to suggest that I add. I was able to walk 65 minutes on a springlike day yesterday.
As I listened to Matthew talk about the change in his thinking about his body, I realized that, perhaps less consciously than Matthew, I too had changed. I've moved beyond having to do exercises every day to stay out of pain to being delighted with this machine which is carrying me through life so effectively. If I were able to stop the exercises without pain, I wouldn't want to do that now. That is how I've come to show my body love...as it is.
Less than an hour later, I bumped into another teacher: an article by Dr. Tim Lomas, Ph.D., in Psychology Today.* He wrote about the approaching 20th anniversary of the positive psychology movement, launched by Dr. Martin Seligman. The piece was both retrospective and prospective, attempting to point the way forward for the growing psychology of happiness movement. The article described three stages: thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. For the first part of its history, psychology had been concerned with how to get us out of misery--the "thesis."
Then along came Seligman with the antithesis: the point of psychology should be to have us experience well-being and happiness. In so doing, all the miserable parts of our lives were castigated or discounted as negative or lacking in value. But, the article proclaimed, there is usefulness from fear: it allows us to assess risk. Lomas continues that "'anti-social' emotions like anger can impel one to resist injustice, and drive progressive social change."*
Finally, Lomas predicts the future of psychology as being a synthesis that values the downsides while supporting our individual quests for well-being. As he described this integration of resistance of the negative while supporting happiness and well-being, it seemed to me that what he was describing for our psyches was a parallel to what Matthew and I had come to in our relationship with our bodies and what I've been coming to over the last two days in this blog. There is value in the struggle with the parts of ourselves that we might not like, but as we learn to accept the richness of the whole, we enable our souls to reach their potentials.
This is not a new concept to me. In fact, I wrote about it in Leading from the Heart, which is also marking its 20th anniversary. I actually looked through the book this evening to get my exact quote, but I was unable to locate it; the gist is that we see the world in black and white when in truth it is a million shades of gray. (That was when shades of gray weren't X-rated.) When we only focus on what we perceive as bad--disability or misery--or good--overcoming and happiness, we lose the texture of the fullness of our existence. Wholeness lies in the synthesis--accepting the fullness of our possibilities.
+https://www.peoplespharmacy.com/2017/01/19/show-1065-how-can-yoga-benefit-everyone-fit-and-flexible-or-not/
*https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/finding-light-in-the-darkness/201602/second-wave-positive-psychology-introduction
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Ladybugs
To my way of thinking, one of the great works of early 21st Century philosophy is the 2004 film "Under the Tuscan Sun." I purchase few movies, but it was one. I watch it a few times every year with pen in hand because there are so many great quotes I want to remember.
A concept that the extraordinary character Katherine shares with Tuscan newcomer Francesca, who is impatient to have things in her life that she doesn't have--a man, children, and a family to cook for. Katherine tells her that when she was a girl she would look for ladybugs everywhere and not be able to find one. She would fall into the grass in exasperation and fall asleep, awakening to find herself covered with ladybugs. I have always taken that to mean that whatever we are looking for will find us, if we just stay still.
There were several things that I want to explore in this transition, but just really didn't know how and in one case even where to start.
One was health coaching and the last week or two of December my email box was full to overflowing with information about several health-coaching programs, free webinars to introduce programs and the like. I don't recall ever getting such a plethora of announcements about the topic. Of course, those who have been following this blog know that I am enrolled in one of them, exploring a topic of lifelong interest. Just like ladybugs, I put health coaching on my list, and the resource were there.
I have followed the field of positive psychology since Professor Martin Seligman, Ph.D., rocked the American Psychological Association (APA) in the late 1990s. Prior to that time, psychologists were only concerned about how we were broken and dysfunctional rather than how we could be happier and more satisfied with our lives. The psychology of happiness was my research topic for my Coach Certification training program a few years ago. Last summer I completed a Psychology of Happiness certification. I have several related books on this shelf of unread books, but I wanted to go deeper. Over the weekend, a colleague, who knew nothing of my interest, emailed me information about a documentary on happiness, and today another sent me a page of links about the second wave of positive psychology. When I laid back and didn't focus, like ladybugs, sources of exploration just literally landed on my desk.
Since seeing the picture of the dead three-year-old Syrian immigrant boy on a beach about 18 months ago, my heart has ached silently for so many like him. There are 21 million refugees in the world today; half of them are children. I've gone to the website of the United Nations High Commission on Refugees. I've given what little I can afford to organizations doing good work. Yet, I have felt so distant from the agony of these people ripped from their homes, but I didn't really see myself traveling halfway around the world to work in a camp. There must be something more I could do; figuring out how has been on my list of things to explore.
Just like ladybugs, resources have fallen on my path. My book club is reading City of Thorns this month, a book about life in a refugee camp in Kenya, housing refugees primarily from Somalia. Built as a temporary camp for 90,000 refugees 20 years ago, half a million people now call it home and no end for the need is in sight.
Yesterday, I received a draft of a plan for our church to be more actively engaged in responding to the crisis. There are 12 months of activities planned. More than that, attending tonight's dialogue about the crisis were people who have been or are actively engaged in this work in our community.
I was introduced to the concept of design-thinking four or five years ago in a creativity and innovation class I took. I read Tom and David Kelly's book Creative Confidence. They are arguably the fathers of design-thinking. Last year I got a certification in Human-Centered Design. Every time I've gotten near the topic, it flipped my switches. It is on my list. A few days ago I turned on a "Hidden Brain" podcast to entertain me while I was walking. The topic: design-thinking.
With the exception of putting a few words on a list, entitled, "Things to Explore," I have not had to take a bit of initiative on any of these topics. It has all just fallen to me.
An important lesson about intention lies in Katherine's ladybug wisdom. Not unlike the joke, "Be careful what you wish for," we need only to have an intentional thought, and the reality can manifest right before our eyes. We all have stories. I think that the other side of this coin, however, is that we can't make things happen. It's the Don't Push the River thing again (1/13/17.)
Why do some things happen so easily then, and we just can't seem to make others happen at all? I think it has to do with aligning with the pureness of our intentions for our lives when we came into human form. If our intention serves our souls, we will be covered with proverbial ladybugs, and they will come to us in ways we could not have imagined.
A concept that the extraordinary character Katherine shares with Tuscan newcomer Francesca, who is impatient to have things in her life that she doesn't have--a man, children, and a family to cook for. Katherine tells her that when she was a girl she would look for ladybugs everywhere and not be able to find one. She would fall into the grass in exasperation and fall asleep, awakening to find herself covered with ladybugs. I have always taken that to mean that whatever we are looking for will find us, if we just stay still.
There were several things that I want to explore in this transition, but just really didn't know how and in one case even where to start.
One was health coaching and the last week or two of December my email box was full to overflowing with information about several health-coaching programs, free webinars to introduce programs and the like. I don't recall ever getting such a plethora of announcements about the topic. Of course, those who have been following this blog know that I am enrolled in one of them, exploring a topic of lifelong interest. Just like ladybugs, I put health coaching on my list, and the resource were there.
I have followed the field of positive psychology since Professor Martin Seligman, Ph.D., rocked the American Psychological Association (APA) in the late 1990s. Prior to that time, psychologists were only concerned about how we were broken and dysfunctional rather than how we could be happier and more satisfied with our lives. The psychology of happiness was my research topic for my Coach Certification training program a few years ago. Last summer I completed a Psychology of Happiness certification. I have several related books on this shelf of unread books, but I wanted to go deeper. Over the weekend, a colleague, who knew nothing of my interest, emailed me information about a documentary on happiness, and today another sent me a page of links about the second wave of positive psychology. When I laid back and didn't focus, like ladybugs, sources of exploration just literally landed on my desk.
Since seeing the picture of the dead three-year-old Syrian immigrant boy on a beach about 18 months ago, my heart has ached silently for so many like him. There are 21 million refugees in the world today; half of them are children. I've gone to the website of the United Nations High Commission on Refugees. I've given what little I can afford to organizations doing good work. Yet, I have felt so distant from the agony of these people ripped from their homes, but I didn't really see myself traveling halfway around the world to work in a camp. There must be something more I could do; figuring out how has been on my list of things to explore.
Just like ladybugs, resources have fallen on my path. My book club is reading City of Thorns this month, a book about life in a refugee camp in Kenya, housing refugees primarily from Somalia. Built as a temporary camp for 90,000 refugees 20 years ago, half a million people now call it home and no end for the need is in sight.
Yesterday, I received a draft of a plan for our church to be more actively engaged in responding to the crisis. There are 12 months of activities planned. More than that, attending tonight's dialogue about the crisis were people who have been or are actively engaged in this work in our community.
I was introduced to the concept of design-thinking four or five years ago in a creativity and innovation class I took. I read Tom and David Kelly's book Creative Confidence. They are arguably the fathers of design-thinking. Last year I got a certification in Human-Centered Design. Every time I've gotten near the topic, it flipped my switches. It is on my list. A few days ago I turned on a "Hidden Brain" podcast to entertain me while I was walking. The topic: design-thinking.
With the exception of putting a few words on a list, entitled, "Things to Explore," I have not had to take a bit of initiative on any of these topics. It has all just fallen to me.
An important lesson about intention lies in Katherine's ladybug wisdom. Not unlike the joke, "Be careful what you wish for," we need only to have an intentional thought, and the reality can manifest right before our eyes. We all have stories. I think that the other side of this coin, however, is that we can't make things happen. It's the Don't Push the River thing again (1/13/17.)
Why do some things happen so easily then, and we just can't seem to make others happen at all? I think it has to do with aligning with the pureness of our intentions for our lives when we came into human form. If our intention serves our souls, we will be covered with proverbial ladybugs, and they will come to us in ways we could not have imagined.
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Housecleaning
I have just finished a fast-paced course on the Psychology of Happiness. There was a lot of writing and even more reading, as well as participation in online class forums. While I have definitely just done a major sigh of relief, I will miss some of the fruitful conversations (and consequent personal insights) that I've had with my classmates. Not much of content was new to me but the self-discoveries along the way were invaluable.
There was a twice a year ritual that I experienced while growing up in the Midwest: housecleaning. We cleaned more than twice a year, but the fall and spring housecleaning was different. Literally everything in the house was turned over and cleaned. Windows were washed. Drawers were emptied, sorted to dispose of things that had outlived their usefulness or size, and reordered. More than just cleaning, the ritual was cleaning out.
For a few years in my adulthood, I continued the ritual, but gradually it went from twice a year to once a year. First the windows were dropped off. Then the cleaning out the drawers fell away. Gradually, the ritual just disappeared. Even on my way-too-frequent moves, I seemed not to find the time or priority to clean out.
As my class has been drawing to an end, I've felt myself itching to clean out. That may at least be in part due to the fact that stacks of reading materials and outlines for essays have overtaken my small desk. A second computer that is still not been completely replaced by the new one, and related technology items, add to the disarray as does an inappropriate gift I received a few months ago and haven't quite known what to do with. I've wished I could just push it all into a waste bin and make it go away, but I know things of value lurk in the piles. I think that has just been symbolic of what has been going on inside of me as this class is drawing to a close.
I've been feeling the need to psychologically and spiritual clean out as well. After 14 years of serious financial struggle since the failure of my business, I am finally to a place where I can let my shoulders drop a bit. After five years of the most dysfunctional work environment that I've ever witnessed in 25 years of consulting with organizations, three layers of management above me have either been removed or quit in the last months. While we are now at about half-staff, and a crushing workload faces me daily as far as I can see, I can find potential that new leadership may bring. Hope is on the horizon.
All that leads me to have discovered in these three weeks that I've been in serious fight-or-flight mode for years. For so long, that it has become habitual. While the content of the class has not been anything I didn't know or even anything that I didn't practice for years, it has helped me re-member who I am. I say re-member because it feels like part of myself was put on a shelf and forgotten. If this class hasn't helped me pull it off the shelf and reintegrate it completely, at the very least I have it in my hands--all of me in my hands.
The cleaning out that I really feel the need for right now is getting rid of all the habits and behaviors that came with the fight-or-flight so that I literally have room to breathe again. And, the funny thing is that I also think I want to actually clean out, not just metaphorically.
The myth of Psyche demonstrates that the role of women is to sort, pick out what is useful and what has outlived it usefulness. I think my sorting muscles have atrophied, and physically cleaning my desk, files, closet, and pantry will help me get them in shape for the spiritual sorting I am beginning. While I might like to treat my psyche like my desk and make all the clutter just go away, I know that good stuff is buried in there that I don't want to lose. So, sort I will.
There was a twice a year ritual that I experienced while growing up in the Midwest: housecleaning. We cleaned more than twice a year, but the fall and spring housecleaning was different. Literally everything in the house was turned over and cleaned. Windows were washed. Drawers were emptied, sorted to dispose of things that had outlived their usefulness or size, and reordered. More than just cleaning, the ritual was cleaning out.
For a few years in my adulthood, I continued the ritual, but gradually it went from twice a year to once a year. First the windows were dropped off. Then the cleaning out the drawers fell away. Gradually, the ritual just disappeared. Even on my way-too-frequent moves, I seemed not to find the time or priority to clean out.
As my class has been drawing to an end, I've felt myself itching to clean out. That may at least be in part due to the fact that stacks of reading materials and outlines for essays have overtaken my small desk. A second computer that is still not been completely replaced by the new one, and related technology items, add to the disarray as does an inappropriate gift I received a few months ago and haven't quite known what to do with. I've wished I could just push it all into a waste bin and make it go away, but I know things of value lurk in the piles. I think that has just been symbolic of what has been going on inside of me as this class is drawing to a close.
I've been feeling the need to psychologically and spiritual clean out as well. After 14 years of serious financial struggle since the failure of my business, I am finally to a place where I can let my shoulders drop a bit. After five years of the most dysfunctional work environment that I've ever witnessed in 25 years of consulting with organizations, three layers of management above me have either been removed or quit in the last months. While we are now at about half-staff, and a crushing workload faces me daily as far as I can see, I can find potential that new leadership may bring. Hope is on the horizon.
All that leads me to have discovered in these three weeks that I've been in serious fight-or-flight mode for years. For so long, that it has become habitual. While the content of the class has not been anything I didn't know or even anything that I didn't practice for years, it has helped me re-member who I am. I say re-member because it feels like part of myself was put on a shelf and forgotten. If this class hasn't helped me pull it off the shelf and reintegrate it completely, at the very least I have it in my hands--all of me in my hands.
The cleaning out that I really feel the need for right now is getting rid of all the habits and behaviors that came with the fight-or-flight so that I literally have room to breathe again. And, the funny thing is that I also think I want to actually clean out, not just metaphorically.
The myth of Psyche demonstrates that the role of women is to sort, pick out what is useful and what has outlived it usefulness. I think my sorting muscles have atrophied, and physically cleaning my desk, files, closet, and pantry will help me get them in shape for the spiritual sorting I am beginning. While I might like to treat my psyche like my desk and make all the clutter just go away, I know that good stuff is buried in there that I don't want to lose. So, sort I will.
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