I joined a book club. Probably I am the last person on my street, as they have been around for ages. But for some reason I usually read alone. The chosen paperback is about creating new habits. Most people can benefit from such endeavors. Even as the friend was in the act of inviting me I was trying to shove myself into the sewing room to reclaim it. Five weekly students tend to whittle away at the orderliness, such that the floor is carpeted not with a rug so much as loose cloth. 

The simple agreement to participate gave me the impetus I needed, and for the next hour I folded and reshelved fabrics. I turned on jazzy music to keep my blood flowing, and weeded out those pieces that resemble Swiss cheese. After taking two bags of trash to the bins and two to the car for the thrift store, the room felt welcoming again. Honestly I was surprised by how much progress I could make in sixty minutes.

The children will notice. They will gaze at the stacks of color and find ways to transform fabric into animals, and hats. The funny thing is, the possibilities were already there, but they were hidden in the disarray. 

I have no idea what my co participants are hoping for in terms of fresh habits. Well, probably I can hazard a guess. But what amazes me is that presumably after a month of parallel reading we will all head toward our own goals. 

In the next month I will be inviting people to join a marriage group. It seems that gathering once a week unleashes its own energy for upping our game. I have found there too that a single hour can help us rediscover the potential that is obscured by clutter.