Contributed by Laura F.

We live in an age notable for many things, and one of those things must surely be our shared obsession with “de-cluttering,” “minimalism,” “voluntary simplicity,” whatever other name you choose to give it.  The interiors held up for our admiration are those that have been stripped down to essentials: bare, airy, uncluttered.  If “decluttering” is the activity urged upon us as virtually a moral obligation, then “uncluttered” is perhaps the ultimate word of praise.

I have certainly done my share of decluttering, some of which I heartily regret, but I have never achieved an uncluttered look in my living space, and I have no desire to try.  You see, there is a counter-balance to the gospel that an uncluttered, almost naked space leads to a healthy mind and a pure spirit.  The counter-balance is advice that I have found to be true: it is easier to pursue activities if your living space is set up to make those activities easy to jump into.  Some zealots go so far as to advocate packing your gym bag the night before or even sleeping in your gym clothes (!!!!) so that in the morning you will jump out of bed, grab your bag (or not, if you’re already dressed for the gym) and be on your way to a vigorous workout.

Please do not imagine that the “you” in the preceding sentence is being used as an all-inclusive pronoun.  I have never even owned a gym bag and the thought of sleeping in gym clothes sounds as bizarre to me as the thought of showering in gym clothes.  That would save time, too, wouldn’t it?  But would it really be a good idea?

No, let’s put all thoughts of gym firmly to one side and leave them there.  I’m thinking instead of such things as what I witnessed last Christmas, when my mother agreed to let my older sister spread out her jigsaw puzzle on our “fancy” table, one we only pull out to its full extent at major holidays.  We had our ordinary meals in the kitchen, as usual, but the “fancy” table stayed out in all its glory after Christmas dinner was over so that my sister could keep working on the puzzle.  It took weeks for her to complete the fiendishly difficult puzzle, but she finally triumphed over its challenges.  Imagine what a frustrating experience it would have been if she had had to put the puzzle away at the end of each visit and re-assemble it the next time she came over!

Jigsaw puzzles, of course, are an extreme example, but almost any activity benefits from being literally easy to “pick up.”  Does any reader actually put a book neatly back in the bookcase after each reading session?  Who among us does not prefer to have a book handy on the bedside table or by the side of our chair?  After we’ve read the book entirely through, then it can go back in the bookcase.

One of the greatest of sewing luxuries is the ability to leave a sewing project out on a table.  As for those people who actually have to put not only their fabric pieces but even their sewing machine away after each use, I salute their dedication but I suspect that less dedicated people would gradually sew less and less.

I myself am a tremendous devotee of coloring books and it is a true pleasure to be able to leave a coloring book open, with a tempting array of coloring agents (pens, paints, etc.) by its side.  For me, coloring is a great way to relax.  Sometimes all I need is to color for ten minutes, or even for five, and that is enough to soothe whatever little upset ruffled my spirits.  If I had to take out my coloring book and colors each time before carefully putting them away again, my opportunities for quick “peace breaks” would be much more limited.

In short, although plenty of people will tell you that a completely uncluttered space is crucial to mental health, I’d like to propose that sometimes leaving things out has valuable mental health benefits of its own.