Spring cleaning... my Sunday self-hypnosis

A very good morning to you from beautiful North Yorkshire where the air is crisp and, when I opened the bedroom window just now, carried the distinctive scent of spring.

Yes, it is not my imagination springing eternal. It is definitely spring springing...

'Ah, but,' someone said to me at the weekend, 'There is more bad weather to come:
March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb...but if it comes in like a lamb...'

Which is a 'glass half-empty' kind of phrase, if ever I heard one, and set me thinking about the hypnotic effects of all those old proverbs and folklore.

There is something about spring - the first snowdrops in the garden, a greenness in the air - that fills me with new energy. This weekend, I was feeling a bit groggy and, quite frankly, a bit 'bleuuugh' after struggling with a nasty cold all week but, when I opened the curtains to sunshine and a hint of warmth in the air, it was so much easier to get myself up and about and begin on a big spring clean of the house.

Those of you have been reading my blog for a while will know that I am very interested in the connections between our external and internal environments. I just finished refurbishing my consultancy room and so I now have more space for my books and files and a calm, peaceful environment in which to work with my clients. I hope that the colours and decor that I have chosen are welcoming and comforting.

And sometimes, when I am working with a client, we agree on a task for the next week that is focused on decluttering a part of their physical environment - a room, a drawer, the corner of a drawer - and they report that this physical decluttering helps their mind and body to feel freer and more open too.

Yesterday, I went through my wardrobe and drawers and made piles of clothes I haven't worn for years, things I've been hanging onto for sentimental reasons or just because I hadn't quite got round to sorting them out yet, and now they are all ready to go to the recycling centre or the charity shop accordingly.

Clothes have always been very symbolic for me. I love that little red leather kind-of-a-backpack-and-kind-of-a-bag that I bought ten years ago in Paris and that I have been keeping all these years, thinking that I might use it again one day or even meet a younger version of me who may like it but, realistically, that is not going to happen. So off it goes.. and now maybe someone else will love it and treasure it... and I still have that memory of a beautiful day in Paris...

Similarly, I found some old faded T-shirts at the bottom of my drawer: memories of a summer bike-ride in France, a music festival in Leeds, even an old T-shirt with paint spatters all over it from painting and decorating the first house I ever owned. I realised they had to go.

And then my purse. May I take a few moments to tell you the story of my purse? I have had this beautiful red patent leather purse-wallet that my mum bought with money that my parents gave to me one Christmas and I have been carrying it around in my handbag for ten years now. It has served me well.

Several years ago, I was mugged outside my own front door. I was living in London at the time, and I was coming back from work, with my hand on the latch of my own front gate, when I heard running footsteps behind me. After a short tussle in which I stupidly and stubbornly tried to hang onto my bag and got dragged along the pavement, the mugger ran off with my bag containing the red shiny wallet and I thought that I would never see them again. I was so upset about losing my handbag and the wallet that had been a gift. I had hardly any cash in the bag. It was the loss of all the little personal things... a notebook, letters...

And then about a week later I found a note - a folded piece of paper written in shaky biro - pushed through my letterbox. It was from an elderly lady who lived a few streets away and it told me that she had discovered my handbag thrown into her hedge and had looked inside and found my notebook containing my address. I was soon reunited with my possessions, including the shiny red wallet.

Over the years, the wallet has gained various marks and belmishes and developed a couple of inconvenient holes. Finally, I took it out and opened it last week in a restaurant and the ziptag came off and pinged across the restaurant floor. I realised that I had to replace it.

So now I have a shiny new red wallet - yes, I managed to find a very similar one. I went through my old one and, with much sadness, threw it in the bin.

This weekend, I realised again that I have a tendency to really get very attached to things. I suppose this can be a good tendency. I treasure and look after my things; but I can also think about situations where I need to learn how to let things go with more confidence and ease.

And this was the process that I went through yesterday as I tossed my old stuff into black plastic bags, dusted and defluffed and folded. It is very therapeutic. Is it coincidence that I woke up this morning after a night of vivid dreams to find that my stubborn cold has almost gone?

I'd love to hear about rituals that you find useful, either personally, or in your work with clients.