Begin within.
-- Iyanla Vanzant

When I was a kid, my mother would always remind me that until I cleaned my room, I could not come out of my room. I hated cleaning my room because, believe me when I say, it was a mess. Books, pencils, and crayons were strewn everywhere. Barbie dolls reclined on the Barbie Townhouse furniture along every wall of the room; stuffed animals and baby dolls carried on conversations in the corners; imaginary friends played games like Sorry and Operation when no one was home so of course the games stayed out for their convenience; the Easy Bake Oven always had a cake and a little bacon cooking; dress-up clothes and a few other clothes that weren’t supposed to be on the floor covered the floor; a couple of Jackson 5 and Disney albums, along with a few 45’s, sat near the white Mickey Mouse record player waiting for me and my sister to make up the next dance for the show – you know the show; and unbeknownst to mama and daddy, there were wads of gum, suckers, and Now Laters stuck to the carpet. My sister and I made a game of seeing who could hop the highest over any object in the floor without stumping a toe or causing mama and daddy to come in and see what was going on. My Tiffany Taylor doll – prior to losing her head – was the only toy that had a special place, but I couldn’t put her there because other things were in her place.

Needless to say, rarely did I get to play outside my room. It was too much to clean. I had no idea where to start.

As I’ve gotten older, my habits haven’t changed all that much. Books and magazines are strewn everywhere; games and variety of puzzles (Suduko, Crosswords, Bejeweled Deluxe, 2,000-piece, etc.) await my return; clothes are everywhere, at least now they’re in baskets; and it does seem there are conversations in every corner – thanks to the imaginary friends who live in my house, the ones my 6 year-old invites in. And, yes, as I scribe, there is bacon baking.

But also in my room, in my house, are emotional issues that need to be cleaned up, i.e., examined and resolved. Concerns that jeopardize my sense of peace and restfulness, the things that keep me up at night, or that sit like pink elephants in the middle of the room need to be picked up, gone through then put away in their proper. The trouble is – just like back in the day – it’s too much to clean and I have no idea where to start. And until I do, I can’t come out of my room to usefully care for anybody else or their stuff. Right?

Hmmm, wouldn’t it be calling the kettle black if I called you on your stuff, and mine is raunchy and raggedy? Or, is it because I live in a raggedy state, I can better explain raggedy stuff? But, if my stuff is consistently raggedy, and I’m trying to help you, am I credible at all?

What if I just make my room, my issues, passable and relatively presentable, doing a little work here and there to get it, them, clean? Is that better than nothing?

Will my room ever be clean?

We’ve all got stuff we need to clean up about ourselves. There’s no way we can be the wonderful and powerful Selves we are without going through the fire to be polished and smooth. We had to care for today’s crisis and obstacles in order to be able to appreciate ourselves enough to even walk out the door. In fact, we did clean our rooms, enough to make others take us seriously. Just don’t look too closely, right?

In order to love, function, and get along with others in the world, it is imperative we do the internal work we need to do on ourselves. We don’t live in a vacuum; the world needs each and every one of us and our talents to spin. Clean your room; do what you gotta do to get your Self right, as right as you can. Don’t worry that you’re not super clean – who is? Your room may never be as clean as you’d like it; there may always be stuff on the floor of your mind that keeps you anxious. But if it’s at least manageable and you don’t have to undergo changes if you put it off for a while, go ahead and step out into the world. You can still be a blessing, call the kettle black, represent, and make a difference with chewing gum still stuck on the carpet.

Sadiqqa © 2007