Cars and keeping the journey light

Cars have long been a universal theme explored in literary works such as The Outsiders. Do you remember the two groups of teen rivals, the Socials and the greasers? The Socs had cars which represented power, protection and mobility, while the greasers had to travel on foot and were therefore much more vulnerable.

stock-photo-30594346-hands-of-driver-on-the-steering-wheelAnd who can’t relate to feeling vulnerable when our car doesn’t start up, or it stalls on the side of the road? Maybe this is a distant memory of our younger years when we had less control over our lives, or perhaps it happened yesterday. We’ve got somewhere to go and this is our mode of transportation. To lose it is unnerving.

Or how about the elderly driver who has to give up driving altogether? This denotes a loss of freedom and independence. How could it not? They’ve crossed over to having to depend on others to move them from one place to another.

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Dreams of cars symbolize how much control you have over your own life. Are you in the driver’s seat or are you along for the ride as a passenger? Do you know how to navigate from one place, or stage, to the next? Or are you lost?

And just like any other area of life, clutter in a car can take an emotional toll. It’s restricting, slows us down, and in the case of a moving vehicle, can even be unsafe.

Cleaning a car is a simple and symbolic way to take charge of our lives. It’s so much more pleasant to take the journey free of clutter and crumbs. Cleaning out one’s car is a step towards traveling with mental clarity and space. It is moving forward with both hands on the wheel, free of the stuff that bogs us down.stock-photo-36568830-driving-on-an-empty-road-towards-the-setting-sun

Dear Ocean State Job Lot: Keep your clutter

Dear Job Lot:

I don’t want to see you anymore.  This time I really mean it.  Last week was the last straw.  I wanted a spare set of sheets and you were close by. You are always there, waiting for my next lapse in judgement.  I ignored that still, small voice that told me don’t do it.   I wanted to give you another chance. There was one set of queen sheets and they were cheap, of course. You always are.  I made sure they were 300 thread count and I was  pleasantly surprised that they were.  This was more than I’d expected from You, given our history.

When I got home,  I washed the sheets and attempted to put them on my bed. They didn’t fit.  I did not even come close to getting the bottom sheet on the mattress.  Those sheets were a lie. So I went back to return them, and for the last time.  I am through with you. And no, I’m not just walking away quietly, either.  I’m annoyed enough with you to put my feelings on the internet. Clearly.

There’s a chance I would’ve gotten over the useless sheets if it weren’t for all your other flaws.  Like the empty bottle of nail polish, or the sunscreen that left me burned.  There’s a reason my husband nicknamed you The Land of Not Quite Right.  I should’ve been through with You after the chafing pans did not  quite fit into their holders, or certainly after the flour product I bought from You set off the only case of kitchen moths I’d ever had. And how about the yoga mat that reeked of chemicals?

But no, I went back for more.  Like the rug I wanted that was so inaccessible.   I knocked myself so hard in the ribs getting it out of Your metal holder that I had to sit down to catch my breath. Okay, maybe that one is not your fault. I could have asked for help.  I could have searched for a step ladder.  But I’m venting right now, so it’s all You.

A good price is worthless if the damn stuff doesn’t work.  You don’t tempt me anymore, not even a little.  Oh I know You have your cheap holiday stuff out now, rows and rows of it.  I know I might pay more elsewhere for some of your paper products or dish soap.  But I don’t care. I’m just not giving You any more chances.  Keep your clutter.  All of it.  I’m moving on for good.