If you’ve kept up with my blog recently you may have read my review of Marie Kondos The life changing magic of tidying up. Slowly I’m creating breathing room, wiggle room to “live” in.
I’m fragile these days. I began limiting my national and local news intake last week. I am allowing myself no more than an hour & thirty minutes for news. This includes channel surfing. I’ve attempted to keep my decor soothing, warm, low key and functional. Slowly it is having an effect. After my initial round of discarding, I made time to follow directions and made certain that if anything didn’t speark joy, I did pay it forward. I remember such ideas in childhood. Each stuffed animal had its own blanket etc. etc. Such well loved items and treasures should be placed back in circulation once they reach the limits of their intrinstic value. This way, somewhere, someone new, can reinvent and interpret the Art of the wheel.
I am most pleased with my current altar-spiritual nook. I picked up the cabinet for a reasonable price. It has two simple drawers and a roomy interior that can also store additional items. I’m pleased with the Japanese emphasis on altar placement. The rule of thumb is eye level or higher. This is atop my amoire.
The lotus candle front and center I’ve cobbled together, as the green base and holder are two different pieces. Rather than sand, I chose copper shot. It can get hot if there isn’t enough shot to distribute the heat. It also works well to hold insence. This is a more formal altar for me. It just came together. I suddenly realized I have what I need-needed for daily use, with traditional touches.
I’m having a coocoon moment with clothing and accessories. I will turn 42 next month. I think writer Douglas Adams has a character named God who teaches 42 is the perfect number. I’ve got less than ten years of lingering youth before the season of my life changes to fall. It may be my last 8 years of summer. No point in keeping or buying what I wasn’t able to even use for the last ten years. My life a waste and joke. I have never had a reason to buy or wear nice things other than myself. It’s not the clothes or work required to buy things. My grief is too big to live within doors that stay closed. I always hoped I wouldn’t die alone. I accept that I may and it might be for the best. It’s when I hear religious comments on what I’ve just expressed that a violence comes front and center. I’m not worth a miracle or friends and family. God has given me nothing but an opportunity. And he broke every promise in his book since then. And I do become irrational about unanswered prayer, life long humiliation and abandonment with no apologies. God’s time is running out. He wont have a chance to explain to a thirtysomething why the presumed opportunity “He-She-It, presented was reduced to a pithy bitch comment from Wittgenstein about silence. God may not exist and I am no reductionist or pity partier to say so and be grieving.