Those of you who already know me personally will know that in my life I witness a constant tussle between opposing polarities and tendencies.

To be specific and on-topic (for a change) – I tend to agonise over where I am on the spectrum between fastidious tidiness and spontaneous chaos. Also between clinging and letting go, between laughter and tears.

(Tending towards the heaps and squalor these days, in my Hermitage that is about to have [in all good Highland Time, i.e. some time from here to eternity] some Major Works involving Room Clearance, if not House Clearance.)

And over six decades I have worried about how and what I am seen to be. Don’t we all?

And I’ve oscillated at dizzying speed between these apparently opposite states, so that from the outside I might seem to be poised and still, or at least hesitant and slow. And, sort of good enough at keeping my chaos “under control” …

Whereas anyone with the acuity of vision of a housefly (another quick-fire seer) might be aware that my stillness masks a constant blur of movement between psychic states.

And that’s where the exhaustion can set in.

In a poem written by one of my writing students, she refers accurately to a similar mental experience as “whirring”.

I’m reminded of the clangorous whirring wings of the horrible creatures that Lyra Belacqua Silvertongue has to have welded into a tin. In ‘Northern Lights ‘ by Philip Pulman, in his ‘Dark Materials’ trilogy, although my student has never got to that point in book 1 of the series.

(Whereas I read it – and read it aloud to my family – on more than one occasion, before it made it onto BBC Radio or, later, onto film and TV.)

To wind back and focus again (hard for a quicksilver, mercurial thinker, a will o’ the wisp) I am picking up – from you dear Readers – on “where is this leading? what is she trying to say here?” and so… back to the title … clearing the desks:

BrainDump

In your ThoughtBook, make a list of, or BrainStorm, all the things that a person can (or might, or “ought to be able to”) CLEAR, or things that might be CLEARED, or be CLEARABLE.

You may want to (and don’t have to) use any or all of the prompts below, as many times as you wish.

Let your imagination run freely and CLEARLY – with CLARITY:

I can clear …

I must clear

I ought to clear …

I want to clear …

First thing in the morning/ last thing at night, they had a habit of clearing …

When the skies cleared …

and remember, CLEARING can be used in a metaphoric sense too…

He cleared off …

She cleared off with …

You cleared up after …

I clear up with …

They only clear …

You always need to clear …

The path is clear …

When the coast is clear …

Clearly I am unable to …

Let’s be clear on this …

You may notice that there are several things that CLEARing ISN’t, but is a near neighbour of – a not-quite synonym.

Myself I am noticing, in that category: CLEANing, emptying, removing, agreeing, facilitating …

Add your own near-neighbours, to give more CLARITY what precisely CLEAR means.

I believe that CLEAR’s derivation as a word (“etymologically”) comes from the Latin clarus, via the French clair, so we have a sense of lightness both of luminosity and of weightiness. Today I am leaving the dictionary-hunting to YOU.

Let’s be clear about that.

For Golden Threadwork today (or perhaps it can morph into Blue Sky Planning) I invite you to essay (in whatever format, including texting-talk) a fluid and meandering outpouring of your own experience of clearing, clarity, clairvoyance, clearing-the-desks, clearing-the-decks and all the other things that can, do, and want to be, cleared.

In a break with our usual protocol, I am adding no more guidance here yet, except for a promise that I will write my own essay in parallel to you writing yours.

And I will give you access to mine, on receipt of yours, which you can send to me via the Contacts or Comments section of this website. I shan’t publish either the essay or your email address without your express permission, and the copyright remains with you .

So please add a copyright statement like this:

© Kathy Labrum McVittie 18 June 2021