The Quiet Tyranny of Meta-Clutter

Meta-declutter: Too Much About Too Much

My name is Anupama, and I am a decluttering addict.

I began with a noble intention of decluttering my needlework cupboard stuffed with supplies and projects including incomplete or abandoned ones for which, somewhere along the way, I had lost the mojo. A simple, domestic act of sanity and an effort to make my son’s life easier. But somewhere between ‘simply your life’, and ‘outer order leads to inner calm’, I fell into a rabbit hole lined with experts, sub-experts, and sub-sub-experts.

I didn’t reduce my clutter. I simply upgraded it, into meta-clutter. Suddenly my problem was not things; it was theories, methods, philosophies, newsletters, and gurus i.e. clutter about decluttering.

Decluttering (and overcoming consumerism), has been not just a task for me, but has become a lifestyle, or rather, a full-time occupation.

For years, I had gathered information on it and made complete word files, folders, sub-folders, flow charts and what not. I also read everything- from Buddhist monks who own two to three sets of clothes and one bowl, to minimalists who photograph their empty drawers and plaster them on Instagram. And my desktop used to sigh when I switched it on.

My folders had names like Declutter-Plan1 to 11, with explanations and bullet points, Declutter-Plan-Final I to III, with notes in parenthesis. I had copied more than six lakh words on decluttering, enough to write a PhD thesis titled The Philosophy of Throwing Things Out (But Never the Notes About It). (And yet people ask me- “Toh aap din bhar karti kya hain? So, what do you do the whole day?)

The irony is that my actual clutter reduced, but my digital clutter achieved gargantuan proportions. If decluttering is supposed to give you freedom, I must be the freest prisoner around.

I read and heard gems of wisdom and watched videos on the subject from advocates of minimalistic living who have become rich preaching this, and may also have their own Wikipedia pages.

From Joshua Becker, Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus to Dana K. White, Renard Lowell, Taryn Maria, Dawn Madsen and dozens of others talking, discussing, suggesting, teaching, showing how-tos, I’ve watched them all. I had enough material in my mind to run a separate blog for a year.

Each newsletter promised clarity; each paragraph added clutter.

I re-read, recycled, repurposed, even gifted my decluttering notes, all in search of inspiration. Somewhere, I realised that I was spending more time managing my plans than living my life. The cupboards were slowly getting empty, but my head, and my desktop were getting packed to the brim with ‘yes, this too can perhaps be helpful.’

I sat down to clearing it. By the third file, I knew I could teach my own class, or print enough copies to wallpaper the whole house.

In those giant word documents, juggling from one to another, trying to read each line, each para, my eyes turned googly. I skipped, jumped, copy-pasted, deleted, reversed action, everything, like a headless chicken. The battery of my mouse quit, but I did not, and that too for several days.

Finally, I managed to clear out the major part. In that frame of mind, even the gurus’ money advice couldn’t tempt me to keep more than a line or two. 

The real lesson? Minimalism applies not only to stuff but to information, too. We hoard newsletters, e-books, 'inspirational' articles, and quotes, (and forward to those on our Whatsapp contacts list), imagining that accumulation equals wisdom. But no digital folder, no matter how meticulously organized, can teach you what a single, thoughtful action teaches: clarity comes from doing, not saving.

So, I am now trying to follow a new rule: no more perfect methods, no more videos of wise people folding tee shirts in slow motion, stuffing bags to give away/sell/ throw/keep.

I’m declaring December 31 as my deadline. On that night, I’ll light a scented candle, whisper a prayer for my hard drive, and delete every file, folder, and note with ‘declutter’ in the title. You might have other resolutions for the New-Year, I have meta-declutter.

Because honestly, I’ am decluttering everything except my obsession with decluttering. And I should now be ready to retire from the hobby.

Having all this out of my chest, I sat down, feeling relieved, adjusting my posterior to get comfortable in the chair. When I looked up after a few seconds, I found that others were still staring at me as if I was an alien. They had never heard of such an addiction. Alcoholics, criminals, kleptomaniacs, shopping addicts, narcissists, but decluttering addicts?

A wave of confusion engulfed me. I sat quietly, blood rushing to my ears, undecided whether to claim my place as the first ever in this category or feel ashamed of my addiction.

I must have made a sound too because somewhere from the horizon of the world I was in, I heard a familiar voice, Uthna Nahin hai? Aur chai? (Are you not going to wake up? And tea?)

I opened my eyes, trying to get used to the darkness in the room. The clock showed 5.40. It slowly dawned on me that it was evening, the days have gone shorter. I remembered I was exhausted after cutting short the six lakh words of my master file on ‘decluttering’ and decided to lay down for a few minutes to straighten my back.

It was only a divaswapna, a dream my tired brain produced after the massive ‘operation delete.’ A dream so convincing, I almost believed it.

Because in the real world, sitting on my desktop right now, is a 3,149-word file titled Decluttering Plan (final version, I promise).
I still haven’t deleted it.
But I have renamed it Definitely Delete Soon.

(This post has no images. The search for one became meta-clutter.)

                                                                                                -Anupama S Mani