The languorous decomposition of that sad squash illustrates a common reluctance to clear out what has outlived its usefulness. Unless action is taken otherwise, most of us naturally accumulate clutter which obstructs our forward path and creates a drag on progress. 

Attachment to physical objects may be attributed to sentimentalism or comfortable familiarity. As memories and positive associations grow stale, however, the objection to disposal becomes something else entirely.“I’m busy (or tired)”, “I’ll do it tomorrow”, “I’m overwhelmed”, or “it’s gross!” To be sure, the putrescence of a rotting pumpkin is a great deterrent, but that is only the fault of the procrastination. 

Not that time constraints don’t ever play a role, but the secret to releasing something at its proper time is often less about the busyness of our lives and more about why we keep things around for far too long. In “Care of the Soul”, Thomas Moore emphasizes the importance of uncovering and honoring the soul-longing that is making itself known through our actions or attachments. Trying to change behavior without understanding the underlying drive is fruitless.

Years ago I completed a clutter-coaching certification track that uses the principles of feng shui, the applied spiritual practice of creating healthy spaces in the home or office. According to feng shui, where clutter accumulates is a message in itself. Likewise, what that clutter is, and what it represents symbolically (particularly as it applies to our identity and core values), is also vital information. These are all clues to a feng shui/clutter coach about what underlying issues might be driving the type and location of clutter in a physical space, and the problems it can create or reflect.

Take, for instance, someone who accumulates books - that would be me, the quintessential bibliophile. I don’t personally see my books as clutter (my spouse might disagree) but the sheer number of books is admittedly becoming a bit of a storage problem. 

Using the coaching questions at the end of this article, I gained insight into the root cause. I associate books with knowledge and I have an insatiable love of learning. My vast non-fiction library is located in the “career” corner of the feng shui bagua, a map of the energetics of a space based on layout. Not surprisingly, almost all the books are oriented around my business, from leadership coaching to organizational consulting to integrated/applied spirituality.

Solving for my space dilemma, I asked myself:  What alternate way can I access the knowledge/wisdom in those books that does not require their physical presence? What will satisfy my urge to be constantly learning and have my expertise affirmed and expanded? As a result of that reflection, I’ve started to sell back those books that no longer interest me and to invest more in ebooks for new subjects. I also keep my curiosity satiated with graduate courses and certificate programs. 

By addressing root cause - an identity anchored in intellectual pursuits and valuing professional competence and expertise - I can see my compulsive book-collecting for what it is, an expression of a powerful drive to learn, and then find alternative, less-messy ways to satisfy that desire.

So what does the rotting pumpkin tell us about its owner’s situation? The placement is significant. Feng shui attributes the front of the home, particularly the doorway, with the flow of energy into the home as well as how one presents themself in the community. 

Traditional seasonal decor by the door may signal alignment with neighborhood norms, fostering a sense of belonging, or could simply be a seasonal aesthetic. Left in place past its holiday could convey an unwillingness to let go of those values. Because of where the pumpkin sits in its advanced state of decomposition, it could also be serving as a mirror of the quality of the household’s energy, which is likely overtaxed or waning.

To change this dynamic, the releasing process should identify alternatives for cultivating those good communal vibes another way. Or, if the core value is celebrating the seasons, lean forward by disposing of the pumpkin and perhaps replace it with charming Thanksgiving decoration.The positive effect is an invigoration of the overall energy of the whole household, moving them forward into the future rather than remaining stuck in the past.

These examples may prompt you to think about what lies beneath your own clutter affliction. Whether or not you find the feng shui lens to be useful or believable, ’tis the season when that urge to purge often strikes. I hope this inspires you to reevaluate some of your attachments and see if it makes sense to let them go in a productive round of spring-cleaning. Here’s to a lighter, less encumbered path to your tomorrow.

Questions for Reflection:
Do you have a clutter problem? The questions to ask about your unwanted clutter-chaos are: 

• What kind of objects comprise your clutter?
• What corner of the bagua do they appear in (clutter location often defines where disruption or sluggishness shows up in your life)? 
• What do the object(s) represent in general, and more importantly, to you? 
• How might your identity be linked to that object symbolism? 
• How else can that representation or identity be satisfied that does not require the physical presence of the object? Get creative!
• Can it be moved to a place in the bagua where it is better aligned, or should it be discarded?

​A few paces away I saw an entirely different plant story. In a patch of dappled shade a colony of moss had claimed a fertile crack in the sidewalk. It was off to the side of the very wide path where it would not be trampled. Not only had it filled the crack where its life began, but it was spreading laterally, draping the drab sidewalk in exuberant lime velvet.

Both plants were fundamentally healthy in the beginning, but the fir tree insisted on pursuing its phototropic mission, clinging to the ideal of following the light without adapting to the unyielding obstacle of the fence. Had it simply gone around rather than engaging the fence, inch by inch, in a wrestling match, it would have ended up with a bend in the trunk and then gone straight up to the sun as it preferred.

​In contrast, the moss found only a crack, but exploited it, expanding and growing across the less-trodden portion of the walkway. There were many such patches of moss as I traveled that stretch of pavement. A few blocks away, I saw a disused segment of sidewalk completely dominated by moss, a testament to its opportunistic, adaptive strategy. The humble moss might be less mighty than the fir in stature, yet the moss is thriving, and the tree is not.

​Some limitations we accept easily in our lives, working with what we’ve got. Other limitations we fight unsuccessfully when adaptation would be the better strategy. Resisting what is apparently immovable is not “wrong”, but if you aren’t getting the results you want, then, as the late Marshall Rosenberg framed it, it’s “not very skillful,” and it’s time to adjust your strategy.

Questions for Reflection:
​What are you banging your head against on principle? What alternate ways are available to you that you have been unwilling to see or try? Are you so invested in traveling your original path that you are willing to compromise the overall success of your endeavor? Or are you confusing the path with the goal? Achieving your honorable objective requires commitment to creativity, humility, and flexibility in your methods. What is it you want right now? How might you adapt to grow towards that ideal?