We often have crap in our lives that requires curb kicking. Some items and entities go willingly while others hang on for dear life. Or it is us that cling. Either way, stuff can be harder to shake than a fleece-embedded burr.

This was never so evident as with our inherited junk piles at the cabin.

The junk was a contributing factor to the owner’s decision to sell. It had been firmly established on the land when he bought the property, and although removal of it had been assured, this never happened. A year later, he realized it was time for him to move on.

The junk had won. Like our present viral interloper, its presence seemed to get stronger with each newly invaded host.

When I saw the piles on the day I viewed the property, I had one thought: getting rid of this will be a piece of cake.

I was wrong.

I called numerous companies, individuals – anyone who had the words “junk removal” associated with their on-line presence. NO ONE would take the junk. No amount of cajoling, crying, or yelling: “Fine! Just name your price!” worked.

Until I found Martin.

If I knew how to add graphics like dancing love hearts and butterflies around Martin’s name, I would.

He had initially refused the job. When I sent him photos so he’d be prepared, I received this text:

“It is too much. Sorry. I am one man show.”

When I desperately promised we would help him load the junk, he didn’t have to take it all, and I would provide water and an endless supply of granola bars, I received a second text:

“OK.”

Bad Juju

Martin may be a man of few words but he is a powerhouse. He wrangled that junk into his truck and trailer, carefully separating it into piles for recycling, and in two separate trips had removed most of it.

I think he may also have cast out demons in a past life.

That junk had bad juju. I am not kidding. The energy emanating from it was pure poison. I swear I had disturbing thoughts just walking past it.

I thought I might be losing my mind until I came across a New Yorker Article: Japan’s Long History of Tidying Up. I knew of Marie Kondo, the Japanese decluttering guru, but didn’t make the connection of her stardom to Japan’s ancient traditions around cleanliness.

The author points out:

“The ancient Japanese believed that plants, animals, natural phenomena, and even the terrain itself could possess spirits known as kami…one type is the tsukumo-gami, a kind of haunted houseware….tools and other man-made objects can develop souls of their own if kept for too long, and, if not properly disposed of, can stomp off on an angry rampage.”

Do you think Martin cared about the evil spirits I warned were embodied in the junk? Nope. That guy wrangled the entire pile of hissing, head-spinning, vomit-spewing crap into his trailer and drove off with a wave and a whistle. And a granola bar.

As Martin was tightening the last strap on the load, I told him he was a godsend. He stopped what he was doing.

“I do not know this word. We don’t have it in French, maybe.”

I explained what it meant. He smiled.

“Ah. Like an angel. Yes.”

Only a godsend could wrangle a myriad of demons into a trailer and drive away totally at peace.

After the junk was removed I sent this photo to the previous owner to tell him some old friends wanted to say goodbye:

He was relieved that an exorcist-junk-removal expert had finally been deployed. His expressive response about us getting shit done and his own feelings about the junk made me laugh; I was relieved that I hadn’t been the only one affected by the tsukumo-gami spirits.

Murder Trailer

After Martin dealt with most of the junk, one item remained. I have saved the best for last:

This weary sentinel was nestled up on a little hill overlooking the piles of junk. I suspect it felt like answering the call to arms as it witness its brethren being carted away; it knew it was next.

It may look innocuous, but here are photos from the inside:

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You may notice the photo quality/angle isn’t great. Feeling the affects of the tsukumo-gami ghosts, I was unable to step one foot inside the trailer . I held my breath, shoved my phone through the door, snapped a few photos and then ran like hell down the hill.

Similar to the junk, it was difficult to find anyone to take the trailer. Any photos I sent to potential takers were met with the same curt response:

“Safety hazard. No thanks.”

I finally found one brave taker: a local lad who wanted to turn it into a tiny house or a utility trailer. I told him his girlfriend would kill me when he brought it home. He laughed and told me not to worry about it – he and his uncle would deal with it (the trailer not the girlfriend).

Deal with it they did. When Dave shared these photos with me, I clicked my heels and poured myself a drink.

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I have since heard from the local lad and he is doing great work on the trailer. Good on him for taming the beast and giving it a new shot at life.

If you look at the last photo of the trailer interior, you will notice a set of keys. We didn’t know they were there until reviewing the photos long after the trailer had been removed.

It made us laugh. The roof had caved in, countless critters had ravaged the inside, someone had lit a fire…yet despite all of the carnage, the keys to the front door hung in presumptive hope of future service.

Dave wondered what else might be hiding inside the trailer, gold bars perhaps. I said I couldn’t care less. If the local lad suddenly discovers a windfall, then he is welcome to it. He’s earned it.

The Cleansing

An energetic shift is happening on the property now that the junk is gone. I no longer have horror movie scripts running through my head or feel like my energy is being slurped up by junkyard vampires.

My junk removal/exorcism ordeal has renewed my interest in Animism, a key feature in many ancient religions and indigenous spirituality. The belief that all things possess spirit or essence (kami) implies that all things on Earth are interconnected. Considering the research Diana Beresford-Kroeger has done on plants and trees, this interconnectedness has graduated from spiritual belief to irrefutable fact. I am in the midst of reading To Speak for the Trees. More on this topic later.

Now when I walk the property, the harmonizing kami of each living thing can easily be felt; they are no longer competing with entities that should have been disposed of long ago.

My next challenge is to take this experience closer to home, and find those objects that “spark joy” as Marie Kondo would say (unlike the pair of jeans I tried on this morning).

If they do not, I will do as she advises: thank them for being part of my life, then open the front door and release them.

Or maybe I’ll call Martin.

Karma Cabin Lesson #8: If something no longer “sparks joy” in your life, think about getting rid of it. It may simply be no longer needed. Or, it may be possessed. Either way, take out the trash and move on.