Domestic Mindfulness

Embracing the KonMari Method

by Ryley Knowles

I overstuffed the washing machine one day and my housemate gently chewed me out about it.

“You can’t put this much in the machine at one time, you could break it.” I nodded and kept my eyes downcast as she gestured to my water logged-mess of blankets and assorted laundry.

Like a lot of people who have been diagnosed with ADHD or ADD, I’m accident-prone. Among other things, I once: melted a mirror on a stovetop; hit a spray can with a hammer; broke a glass table by putting a hot kettle on it; and (briefly) caught on fire from an scented table candle. I did not want to be responsible for more domestic disasters, like breaking the only washing machine used by a household of five people.

“What I’ve found is that I naturally treat my things more gently.”

“Think of it as a stomach,” my housemate advised. “It works the same way.”

Of course, she was right. A stomach stuffed to the limits could not be expected to operate normally. It didn’t occur to me before because I wasn’t thinking of the washing machine as a living thing. A few things clicked in my head then, having recently read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. That’s when I knew I wanted to try the KonMari method in my life.

Marie Kondo describes her approach to tidying and decluttering as the “KonMari method”. KonMari involves organizing principles like “always cleaning the house in one go”, the specific order that a house and it’s objects should be sorted. But the core of the KonMari method isn’t only practical advice. There’s also an essential spiritual element.

Kondo worked as a Shinto shrine maiden for five years. Shinto is a traditional Japanese faith focused on the worship of kami, which is usually translated into English as spirits or gods. In Shinto everything has a kami, including our possessions and household. Kondo brings her beliefs into her practice as a professional organizing consultant. “The first thing I do when I visit a client’s home is to greet their house,” Kondo writes, “I kneel formally in the center of the house and address the house in my mind.”

Even if one doesn’t practice Shinto or other animismbased faith, the material things in our life do require attention, respect, and care. Cleaning instructions on clothes should be followed, warranties understood, tires changed, trash emptied, computer software updated, shelves dusted, and floors swept.

In search of domestic mindfulness, I’ve adopted the Kon- Mari method. I think as if my room and my things were alive. I said, out loud, to my room that I was home when I crossed the the threshold. I thanked my boots for keeping my feet dry.

And what I’ve found is that I naturally treat my things more gently. I remember to plug my phone in because I remember it’s energy isn’t limitless. I keep glasses away from the edges of tables because I remember they are fragile. I notice when trash cans get full because they can only hold so much.

Imagining my surroundings as alive makes me feel accountable. I don’t eat while I’m working at my desk, out of respect for my hardworking keyboard. While I still have some accident-prone days, with the KonMari method I have less clutter, less spills, less trash, and a little bit more peace of mind.

Ryley Knowles is a fiction writer and freelance journalist. They live with their cat in Tacoma, Washington.