Wednesday, September 17, 2014
The way in
Although it's not fashionable to say it, from my perspective it's pretty easy to love stuff. Especially books. More specifically, books about writing books. Books about people who read books. Books about people in general. Books on how to show your love for people with food.
It's also pretty easy to love the stuff that people use to celebrate themselves. Particularly the stuff that can be used as a tiny celebration of individuality every day. Trinkets, talismans. Costumes, face paint, sparkles. Photographs.
And then there's the joy that comes from listening to (or watching) people do what they love. Particularly if it involves music. Or if art is the outcome.
Many years after I'm gone, the (un)lucky soul charged with the task of sorting through the debris of my life will be confronted with rather a lot of stuff. Letters. Jewellery. Many pairs of boots. Hats. Art prints. Owls. Journals. DVDs. Emails. Photos. Arts supplies. Magazines. CDs. Recipes. Candles.
I'd leave them instructions to create a favourite moment in my life. I'd say: start by lighting the open fire. Pull a handmade blankie over your knees and pour yourself a coffee and turn on the radio to PBS FM's Gospel Show. Thumb your way through the weekend newspapers or a New Yorker (or a Frankie) while your beloved family putters around you, stopping now and again for a chat or a hug. When you feel like getting up, cut yourself a piece of chocolate cake, light a candle and retreat to the bathtub for a soak and some fabulous fiction and a scribble in your journal (or one of mine). When you're ready, dry off and dress in your most fabulous kimono, put a flower in your hair and add cowgirl boots and some glitter eyeshadow. Spend the afternoon, sharing morsels of Reggiano parmesan and artisan dark chocolate with your family. Maybe even bake something. Go for a walk in the sunshine, browse in shop windows, pick flowers from neighbourhood gardens, have swing in the park, take photos of your shadows. Savour slow cooked tender morsels for dinner. Watch a Studio Ghibli DVD, followed by The Colbert Report once the bambini have gone to bed.
I'd say: take a moment to inhale. Savour the feeling of being one of the luckiest people on earth. Exhale and open your eyes and your arms to the world around you.
I'd say: know that the stuff is really just a way in.
I'd say: although it may look like you're living in a cocoon of your own making, the truth is, it's all about people. About what it is to live a good life, to be alive in this world.
This post is my response to Day Three of the August Moon reflective writing challenge. You are most welcome to share your own response to the prompt in the comments below.
Otherwise, the next opportunity to connect is Reverb in December. Join us?