Clump

A woman walked in to a house and exclaimed “This is so much like the house I grew up in!”. She had a fine sieve of criteria through which each property she viewed passed. In this instance familiarity equated home, trumping her laundry list by miles, and she put in an offer to purchase.

There is a saying; "buyers are liars".  It is rude, and I am happy to take offense in defense of all buyers, because we are ALL buyers at some point. It is inaccurate, cutified and misleading.  What it refers to is that commensurate with buying, is mining. We don't know what we want until we KNOW what we want.

My colleague taught a Hatha Yoga class during which she suggested that practicing yoga asana is participating in a reductive process starting with a crude clump, a blobby or inflexible feeling body, an overly active mind and an inaccessible breath. In a relative way all starts start with a clump.
To relate practical matters--acquisitions, grocery shopping, organization, with pursuits of creation--art and matters of the spirit, largely we set out with an as yet unformed vision regardless of our laundry list or the way we think things should look, be, or feel.  

Down deep, nested in the clump is a thing we experience as truth. It carries an alarming message; we know ourselves but haven't met until now.