Can’t Conquer Space, I’ll Surrender My Stuff

How I found clarity in surrender.

The infinite complexity of space has always been an exploration for us mere mortals. Exploration guides us to understanding, or as close as we can get to it. We explore the limits of our minds, the borders of our world. Holding delusions of self-importance in our universe. We are a blip, a speck in space and time. In the scheme of things, this earth is small. Many conquer places, claim buildings, ideas, and important items, and some are determined to colonize Mars. Why? To have control? To “leave our mark”?

Can we really leave a mark when we are such a tiny part of a mark? Is that too meta? I’ll stop.

Space is vast and infinite, Unconquerable. I’ve always found space to be magical. Reading about stars, parallel universes, black holes, and Mars. The water-free Red planet always blows me away with its unconditional beauty. Gazing at the stars shrinks problems better than any self-help book. Outer space is the ultimate reality check.

At the centre of the Milky Way, there is a black hole four point six million times the size of the sun. — Sagittarius A* via NASA

If that doesn’t give you intense feelings of existential dread, maybe nothing will. The reality of space exploration is we can explore and live in and around it, but will never conquer it.

The space I’m exploring is my physical space. I know I’ll likely never conquer it, but there is no harm in trying or coming close. Surrendering my things has created more space for life. Exploring and changing the space around me has changed my life. It’s shaped how I see “outer space”, as not only the planets swimming around us but the space that defines living. The literal space outside my bag of cells, bones, and organs, and junk.

We can surrender physical clutter, digital and mental clutter. Here’s how I found clarity in surrender.

Conquering Things & Stuff

It sounds so unimportant after all that, in the last couple of years, I’ve been minimizing. I’ve collected processes from the greats like Marie Kondo, The Minimalists and even read about the practices of Buddhist Monks who live without worldly possessions and vanities, which explains the baldness. In the end, a combination has formed spaces I’m proud of.

I’m ashamed to admit before adopting a Minimalist mindset, how much time I’d wasted acquiring more stuff, caring for it and wanting more. I’d convince myself I needed it. Of course, I still want things. I’m human. But what I want are (mostly) not things. I want better relationships, more experiences, education and always more love. When I want things, they’re usually a big value adder, like a dishwasher, which adds both time and space.

“Love people, use things. The opposite doesn’t work.” ― Joshua Fields Millburn

Right now, I want to take an improv class, My favorite song sheets to learn on the piano, and maybe a resistance band or two that actually still has resistance. Donating, recycling, and throwing so much of what I had has shown me what’s important. It’s helped me use each item to its limits and see what I truly need in my spaces. I want more experiences and to learn more.

Of course, there are limits to my minimizing, like my partner's batman figurine collection, my parent's constant op shop buying things for the kids. I have promised not to ditch their stuff without their permission (as much as I sometimes want to). The limits test my controlling self, but to disrespect them would be significantly worse. My detachment to things took a long while to grow, I can’t expect them to find it right the fork now. For now, all I can do is live by example and hope it’ll rub off.

Minimising helped me to drastically reduce stress and anxiety. Having a space where I find things quickly and see only things I love or are useful has forced me to engage more with my inner workings. Surrendering the clutter has collected my thoughts and set others free.

New Headspace

The world is chaotic. I get quite lost in my headspace. Lost in the infinite uncertainty of the universe. This used to be a bad thing, a black hole. Now it’s more like floating calmly in space. We can minimize emotional clutter, too. Minimizing combats anxiety on a basic level by targeting my overwhelming outer space. My inner spaces are clear.

In having more control of my physical space, I’ve found peace in my mind. Not completely, I’m no Monk, but the ruminations that once lasted months now drift on through.

If clarity is found in letting go of attachments and full control is tyrannical and irrational. Then I’m learning to let go of control of how I get clarity. I’ve learned I can control what I bring in and out of my space, but this control is, like earth, a blip in the universe.

Clear space in your brain for better things — Songwriters: Jack Dolgen, Rachel Leah Bloom, Adam Schlesinger

Becoming the messy minimalist I am today has cleared so much space in my mind. Space I can use for whatever fork I want. I chose the Image above because when I started minimizing I started doing more handstands because I had more space! As I mentioned in this piece, Gymnastics has always been a part of my world. Allow me to sum it up…

Minimising -> More Space/Time->More handstands->Happier Headspace

I completely accept that surrendering my need to control my space will be a part of the journey, too. Letting go of control breeds uncertainty. In life, uncertainty is a sure thing anyway, so I’ll start now.

Let it go

Resiting the urge to put a Frozen image here.

I may not have conquered the handstand, but I’ve conquered the art of letting go of things. Yep, I said things, not thoughts. That lesson is very much still in progress. I’ve learned to let go of things that don’t add value or that waste my time. To let go of conversations, grudges, and friendships. Letting go has freed me from destructive thoughts and allowed me to live with more intention.

I’ll never completely conquer my headspace or my physical space. But that’s irrelevant, because choosing how I shape my space is important to me. It’s important to me to surrender what doesn’t matter to see what does. The yearning for more order and control in our space is natural, but it has to end, eventually. The clarity I’ve found for now is more than enough.

Whatever happens next, I’m going to keep star gazing, donating, and meditating.

Bridie Dillon, Smiling Politely.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, maybe you’d like the pieces below. Or you could subscribe to my newsletter for more musings! Currently, I write about parenting, writing and mental illness.