I don’t like clutter. When I take something out, I put it away. So it surprises me how my online mailboxes get so out of hand. And once they get built up, I don’t go back to remove the “junk,” but simply look at the present day. Even after dropping the warnings from 99% full to 98%, I push off the cleaning for another day. 

The inevitable always arrives, and I have to clean them out. Hitting the select button until cramping. Trashing. Trashing. Trashing. All the while questioning, why didn’t I just deal with this in real time? But it does serve as a good reminder, for my own brain. 

My mother used to call them “old tapes” — a sign of her times, I suppose. Those thoughts that can plague you again and again. The now junk mail of my mind. Call them what you will, oh, how they can clutter. And I can feel it. As I think about the “being wronged,” as it plays over and over in my brain, and the warning signs come, 98%, 99%, and then the real warning, “you won’t be able to continue…” — and never have truer words been spoken. So I start dumping. Taking out the brain trash. Letting it go. And what a relief. Such freedom. My heart applauds. Even my steps feel lighter. I think we all know it will get filled up again. But I hope with each lesson learned I get a little better. A little faster at the letting go. Weeding through life’s junk to get to the promised land of only 90% cluttered. And as I laugh, my load lessons, and I walk, spring even, into the day.