FROM ZEN TO UNGEPOTCHKED

By Ruth Lampert


Copyright September 15, 2011



One of my favorite Yiddish words is “ungepotchked,” which, according to Google, translates roughly as “Messed up, slapped together without form, excessively and unesthetically decorated. ....”

Each time I attempt to simplify my life, a gazillion things emerge to clutter it up. Now that I have reached and in fact surpassed the age of what my Denver grandson * charmingly calls “chronologically gifted,” the reality of “clutter” far surpasses the ideal of “simplicity.”

For example, when I moved into my condominium over 20 years ago (the story of my many moves cannot be far off) the freshly painted walls remained bare white until such time as I got around to unpacking. It was all very Zen, and I quite liked it. But I also liked all the stuff in the cartons. Eventually the cartons were unpacked, and the stuff displayed. The day came when I sat back and observed the final result,, first with pleasure, then with the dismal realization that I had gone from Zen to Ongepotchked., and there was little hope of ever returning.

I was reminded of this when another grandchild moved into her new apartment in Northern California with her boyfriend, and emailed me about the many cartons, still unopened, on the apartment floor. I must check with her about that. But I digress, which, I realize, is just another form of clutter….

When I officially retired three years ago from my psychotherapy practice I thought, as I suspect everyone does upon retirement, that I would get “caught up, “ would clean out the clutter (there’s that word again) of papers and “notes to self” and etc, etc, etc, etc. And in fact, the piles are a teensy bit smaller. The catch, of course, is that no sooner are ancient reminders/directives/notes etc tended to than new ones appear.

But surely, the desk of a creative person is not meant to be Zen-like. And surely anyone who writes, even if not always systematically or conclusively or brilliantly or not-too-bad-really qualifies as “creative.” Of course he/she does. Don’t I?

It’s not like there are small creatures making their homes in the stacks of papers. It’s not like I can’t find what I want at the moment, although “moment” may not be the exact correct word to describe how long the search takes. And there is the wonderful experience of coming across something that really never did actually have to be done in the first place.
Rip it up and throw it away! Who cares what your thoughts were about that long ago event? And the friend whose birthday you missed, well if he/she is really a friend he/she will understand, right? I’m writing a note now to send a card next year. O.K., so “next year” has come and gone, I’ll make a really big reminder note for next, next year. And re unpaid bills that somehow did not get filed in the “unpaid bills” file, no one shuts off the utilities, or puts the house up for foreclosure, without several reminders. I’m sure of that.

And notes for future blogs are neatly stacked in a file folder clearly marked “Notes for Future Blogs.” I know it is here somewhere.

After all, one does not want to be obsessive-compulsive. And Google notwithstanding, there is a charm, a warmth, an ethnic lovability to “ungepotched.” And you don’t even have to be Jewish.

Now where is that folder….