Cleaning Out My Car: A Spiritual Journey

I must admit that this year, the season of Lent caught me a bit flat-footed. I had finally started getting the hang of writing "2012" on things, and all of a sudden, people are walking around with ashes on their heads. Have we already gone through two months of this year? What happened?

Normally, a week or so before Ash Wednesday, I start to narrow my focus of just what I would like to accomplish this Lenten season. Some years I have "gone big" and stopped eating meat, while other years I have "gone small" and given up things like gummy bears, or beer on weekdays. (A profile in courage, that one.)

This year however, I had nothin, zilch, nada, bupkis. I was simply not prepared for the spiritual season. When I found myself desperately thinking of something to give up, just so I could tell people at a party what I was giving up, I knew I was adrift.

Whenever I find myself a bit spiritually at sea, I know I need to get to the anchor that is my Church. Well... it's not my Church of course ... but ... it feels like it. It's not like I am good buddies with anyone there, in fact quite the opposite. I don't know anyone, and I guess something about that anonymity makes me feel like I can just focus on me and not worry about pleasing anyone else with a waive or a gesture or some inane comment about the Lakers.

I was fortunate on this day because the Priest at St. Matthew's was Father Jack. I must tell you that I have been going to Catholic Church for a long, long time, and when I first saw this guy in action, I knew almost instantly that he would crack my personal list of "Top 5 Priests of All Time." (I surely can't be the only Catholic who has a list like this can I? In fact ... is it possible to "Yelp" a Priest? If so, I will give him 5 stars.) Father Jack is incredibly thoughtful and earnest and deeply believes in every single thing he says. So when he greets us with "thank you for joining me on this beautiful morning in Long Beach," it feels much heavier than your normal weather report, and leaves me feeling pretty great about most everything he talks about after that.

Today Father Jack's topic was of course about this holy season of Lent. He instantly put my mind at ease that the season was not about pleasing God with your commitment to giving up pizza, but rather something far deeper. The season is a time of reflection, of getting your spiritual house in order, of becoming a better you. To that end, Father Jack recommended a book called "Simplifying the Soul" by Paula Huston, which he claimed would be a very helpful guide as we move through our journey.

Now, normally, I am not one to run out and buy a book recommended by a religious figure, for I am just slightly jaded enough to wonder if they have a cut in the profits, but a recommendation from Father Jack was different. The only other time he has recommended a book, it was Nelson Mandela's diary kept in prison, and contained the life-changing quote: "a Saint is a sinner who keeps on trying."

I had the book on my Kindle by noon.

The book is a day-by-day practice guide for the Lenten journey. It contains life lessons from the author, and recommendations for exercises to clear your mind and "simplify your soul." I knew from the very first exercise that this was exactly what I needed.

"Clear out a junk drawer or closet"

I knew what this meant for me. It meant the trunk of my car.

Perhaps there is no finer example of the wonder that is me, than the trunk of my car. In the past I have taken a bit of pride in its crowded contents, which I thought were a fine representation of just how well-rounded I think I am. But somewhere along the line, the trunk had transformed from slightly eccentric mess, to ridiculous mess. There are stray golf clubs, random books on acting, music and project management, a Nerf football, a bass guitar, 2 ties, a wrinkled sweater, damaged CDs, an emergency kit, and of course the stockpile of requisite Long Beach grocery bags. (I think I have about 37 now.)

I used to think that you could tell the mindset of a person by taking a look at the cleanliness of their vehicle. If this was still the case, I was in trouble. The "wonder that is me" had become a very cluttered individual.

So I have decided that this will be a great beginning of my spiritual journey this Lent. Cleaning out the clutter in my car will be a metaphor for cleaning out my soul. I can already feel it working, as I notice I feel a bit lighter with every random item I remove from the car. It will never be perfect of course, and I know I am prone to filling my trunk back up again. But for now, I will keep on trying.

Hey look! I found my old sweatshirt. I thought I lost it!