Sock Drawer

I am proud of my drawer of neatly rolled and organised socks. It is the result of frustration at not quite being able to fit them all in, now that we have caught up on laundry. It is also the result of having a little bit more energy. In the early days of my illness the idea of expending energy on organising socks would have been ridiculous. It was all I could do to eat, keep clean, and rest well. I didn’t care or notice what was beyond my immediate needs – a pair of socks was there for me to wear, that was enough. A few weeks later and organising the socks became my first task beyond the essentials. It was an investment in the future – if my socks were better organised, I would find it easier to put them away and to find a pair to put on in preparation for doing whatever it was I would some day be able to do.

As I pulled out the drawer to start the organisation I understood why I’d had a problem – there was too great a volume of socks to fit in the volume of drawer. I needed to downsize. Rather than go through deciding what to get rid of (which felt daunting) or seeing which ones ‘spark joy’ and just keeping those (I had done that before and still had too many socks left – I like socks), I approached the task like packing for a holiday. I am good at packing and like to travel light. So I emptied all the socks out of the drawer, and refilled it with the socks I wanted to take with me, as though I were packing for the next year of my life. Once the drawer was full, the rest would go.

I filled the drawer with the socks I wanted to take with me. I am now continuing this method with the rest of my clothes. This is slow progress – before I would have done something like this in a day or two. This gentle rate of progress means I am reflecting on what I am doing. I started as though I was packing for a holiday, but I now realise I am actually packing for a journey: while I am not going anywhere physically, I am packing for a journey of months and years to come as I continue to discover my frailties and strengths in this new situation I find myself in. Like travelling, I do not know exactly what will happen or what I will need – but I have an idea of what I don’t need, and what I definitely want with me. I know that above all I need simplicity.

I know how to travel light and simply because I have travelled a lot and I don't like carrying heavy bags. This came to its most extreme on the Camino to Satniago de Compostela, and a few years later walking coast to coast across England (at a narrow point!) carrying all I needed on my back. I felt a great resonance with Jesus saying to the disciples to take no spare cloak, to travel light. This is about being ready to receive. When on a walking trip like this a big challenge is reading material – even to carry a kindle is extra weight. The idea of travelling without reading material seemed impossible, but then I found, you pick up what you need along the way. You are receptive. Because you don’t have anything with you, the leaflet in the church, the newspaper in the cafe, or indeed a picture on a wall are enough entertainment. You see more, you experience more, you rely more on the people around you. To follow Jesus’ call the disciples had to let go of what they would usually bring with them, and rely on the people around them. It wouldn’t always be good – sometimes they would need to move off, shaking the dust off their feet, leaving behind a people or place who were unable to engage with them.

So my journey ahead, that I am packing for in this static and generous way – there is rather more room in my wardrobe than in my backpack. I will be carrying many things, but I cannot provide everything for myself, and to try to do so would limit my experience. It is with others that I will discover what God’s call is to me now. My current isolation for the sake of rest is the right thing to do now, but it cannot be permanent.

(Written May 2022)