Clean Lines

One side of me likes the clean lines, the “everything has its place” feel, the calm of cleanliness and space. The other side of me is a hot mess that finds comfort in the disaster of clothes strewn on the floor, half read books piled up on shelves, dishes in the sink for later and then when later passes at least tomorrow will be there, bits of scrap paper with attempts of short stories, epiphanies, poems, questions, so many questions. The hot mess lifestyle is perhaps that of a single person, so the neurosis doesn’t encroach on that of another’s true ability to blend into our abnormal society. I’m married, but the hot mess has its days of making itself very present to others and it’s always present in my mind leaving me feeling cluttered, dazed and confused.

Perhaps my husband is the clean line. He is focused, disciplined, goal orientated and very sure. Only now am I starting to realise how we fit. He is the clean line I require to stop the mess infiltrating all corners of my cranial bedroom. I can imagine it would be easier to think, to breathe as a clean line. To know the way, feel the stability and know the nature of your cause must be extremely empowering and rather thoughtless in the sense that you wouldn’t be racking your brain minute by minute trying to figure out the meaning of life and your purpose therein.

The meaning of life is neither here nor there is it really? There surely is no one meaning. Each life is different; if life does have meaning then each individual life would have its own meaning. So I guess that would mean the question would be “what is the meaning of my life’? This is a much more interesting question and much scarier. Funny enough if the word ‘meaning’ was exchanged with another word with the exact same meaning such as ‘worth’, the question would read ‘what is the worth of my life’. And the anxiety builds.

Let’s try this with an array of words with the same definition as ‘meaning’:

What is the significance of my life?

What is the importance of my life?

What is the consequence of my life?

What is the entailing of my life?

What is the sense in my life?

I am sure a clean line looking in on a hot mess of questions such as those would answer with another question “who cares?”. They don’t bulk down on such things, probably because they are busy working towards goals, achieving goals, living life instead of outside of it. Living outside of life, that’s a strange concept I suppose. Because what is life? If life is what we do every day, than I guess there is no outside of it, right? Too deep, let’s go back a few lines. Ok, is asking the question “What is the meaning of my life” a stereotypical hippie question. Do the clean lines think that’s what “Hippies” do? They just wander through life smoking pot and asking themselves “what is the meaning of my life?”. Or are they actually living their meaning by working, but not making work their main focus, by spending more time outside, by seeing more of the world that lay at our feet and by trying to avoid the unnecessary “necessities” like dryers, hair straighteners or brand names?

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