Before I started writing this morning, I grabbed my copy of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I wanted to feel the physical book in my hands again. To see if it still had the ineffable hold on me, like it did when I first picked it up in the San Francisco airport eight years ago. 

Honestly? Not really. 

It’s smoother than my memory of that January memory. 

I remember casually scanning the bookshelves in the airport convenience store, waiting for my flight home. Dreading the flight home per usual. Between the dramamine and neck pillows, this particular book with it’s unappealing name, caught my attention. More like, it put an energetic choke hold on me and forced me to buy it. 

Walking back to my gate with the velvety, warm book in my hands, I still had no idea why it was coming with me. I had less than zero interest in organizing. 

Did my life need some decluttering or “tidying up” at that time? Absolutely. 

Was I aware of this need? I was conveniently keeping this knowledge tucked away pretty tight. 

I read the entire flight home and didn’t put the book down until it was finished, just before falling asleep in my Kansas City bed that night. Much to the dismay of Marie Kondo, skipping the unpacking and laundry part of travel to soak up every last word. 

The momentum carried me. And I let it. 

I began following her method; clearing out every room in the house I shared with my then-husband. Bags and bags donated. We’d been in the house for over three years. It was by far the longest I had stayed in one place since my high school home. And I had itchy feet; big time. 

I realized how much I missed moving. 

The novelty of a move? Yes. 

A little bit of running away? Probably that too. 

But also the clearing out. The reflecting and taking inventory of my life. Choosing what comes with me into the next chapter. And what doesn’t. 

It. was. intoxicating.  

But that wasn’t all. It wasn’t just the relief of getting rid of all the “stuff”. A line from the book stuck with me. 

“A dramatic reorganization of the home causes correspondingly dramatic changes in lifestyle and perspective. It is life transforming.” 

That’s what was really happening. Under the surface. 

My life was transforming each time I slowed down and really checked in with myself. 

• What actually brings me joy?

• What’s NOT working in my life?

The more I asked myself these questions. The more I was able to get radically honest with myself. 

The discernment muscle was getting stronger. 

The big, life-changing decisions didn’t happen overnight. And I guess it could be called “magic” if you define magic as consistently listening to yourself and making aligned choices in your life, even when they disappoint other people, and working really hard to create the life you desire, even when it means ending relationships and jobs and old patterns. 

If “magic” = doing the things that scare you most because you know they’re right;

Then yes, this book was magic. 

And life-changing. 

And it led me down a path of re-learning to trust myself.

With Curiosity,

Emily