Konmarinated

Does this spark joy? I asked myself, reflecting on the meaning of lifelessness. I was lying in a ward at Kurume University Hospital, recovering from an extremely improbable accident that the sensationalist Japanese tabloids reported as follows:

SUMO SCENE: Entitled Wannabe-Travel Writer Crushed by Sumo Champion – Shocking Photos!

So, I was a convalescent, wrapped in bandages from head to toe like a mummy. Bored, I waited for the moment I could continue my journey toward the promised land of Tokyo and its lucrative job opportunities. I feared the wait would be long, so I was determined to use the time productively.

I reached out my trembling hand toward the table beside my hospital bed, where someone had thoughtfully left a book titled “Kurashi at Home: How to Organize Your Space and Achieve Your Ideal Life” by Marie Kondō, a self-proclaimed tidying expert. To pass the time, I read the book, and before long, I felt the teachings of tidying and sparkling joy flow through my veins, lifelessness returning to my limbs and my heart.

And I was home again, in my beloved manor, where over the years I have spent countless moments in the study, drafting my writings. I gazed around the familiar, cobweb-covered estate, and from somewhere, the words came as a whisper:

Does this spark joy?

Is that you, Marie Kondō? Did you ask me if my own home sparks joy? Yes and no. In this house, I have written my best works, which sparks joy, but since I’ve become unemployed due to the recession, I can no longer afford to live here, which, in turn, does not spark joy.

Do the objects in this house spark joy for you?

To be perfectly honest, while traveling the world, there was nothing I missed as much as my own bed, my desk, my refrigerator, my shower...

No – do the small, loose objects spark joy for you?

Oh, this junk scattered all over the place?

Yes.

I've never given it much thought.

Go through your belongings and ask yourself about each one: does it spark joy? If the answer is yes, keep it; if the answer is no, throw it away.

Fine. Let’s see. A broken coffee mug – doesn't spark joy, into the trash. My favorite bedsheet – shabby but still stylish – sparks joy, I’ll keep it.

Great, you’re doing well, just keep going.

Floor broom, do you spark joy? Yes, because I like sweeping floors; it’s therapeutic. On the other hand, no, because the broom reminds me that I can’t afford a therapist. So, into the trash! Toothbrush, do you spark joy? No, because I can’t stand brushing my teeth, and no matter how much I brush, I still get cavities! So, the toothbrush goes into the trash!

Well, actually... not every object you keep strictly has to spark joy; they can also be functional…

What about all these overdue bills? They don’t spark joy – so, into the trash! A photo of my sour-faced aunt? Doesn’t spark joy – so, into the trash!

Listen now…

My dear old fax machine, you who used to beep happily to signal new assignments, and have since fallen permanently silent. My blood begins to boil just by looking at you! I’m throwing the damn thing out the window – now that is what sparks joy for me!

I think we may have gone off track. Let’s look at your belongings by category. It seems you have a wealth of books here. There are full bookshelves in every room, and books are also piled up on tables, chairs, and the floor.

That’s right, I’m an author and I read a lot.

Go through your books and keep only those whose information is important to you at this very moment.

What?

In an ideal situation, you should have fewer than thirty books.

Listen here, I have more than thirty books on my nightstand alone. If I get rid of my books according to your advice, all that will be left is a manor echoing with emptiness – and a writer echoing with the same.

Your goal is to determine whether these books are useful in your life, or if they are simply taking up space in your house. For each one, ask yourself: does this spark joy?

The sole purpose of books isn't just to spark joy; it’s to provoke thought, to preserve knowledge, to help one escape reality. Every single one of them is important, and I don't intend to get rid of a single one!

Well, what if you just chose a few? It would clear your mind and…

No! How dare you even suggest such a thing? Get rid of books? Should I burn books in the fireplace? Should I build a bonfire of books in the backyard? Why don't I just set the whole manor ablaze right now, since fire cleanses almost as effectively as Marie Kondō!

The mind rests in a tidy home. Once order has been established, chaos will never return.

This may come as a surprise to you, but I don't mind chaos. My thoughts gallop in such spheres that a little mess at home is completely insignificant. In chaos, creativity lives alongside cockroaches!

Life truly begins only when you have put your house in order.

Lifelessness is here and now, no matter what it looks like at home. Personally, I would recommend leaving the house more rather than having conversations with your belongings.

You will more easily find your true purpose by owning fewer things; it is quite – BEEP BEEP BEEP

When you become homeless because of unpaid bills, when the work stops and there’s nothing to replace it, you suddenly find yourself owning exactly as much worldly possessons as a proper minimalist should!

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Do you hear me, Marie Kondō? We don’t all share the same joy-sparking lifelessness that you do!

BEEP BEEP BEEP

What on earth is that infernal beeping? The heart monitor is beeping like there’s no tomorrow. Wait a minute! I was only dreaming. I’m not at home in my manor after all; I’m still in a Japanese hospital – mangled, moaning, and dirt poor.

...and it does not spark joy.


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