Death of a Coffee Cup

For my 38th birthday in December 2010, my friend Wendy W. bought me a beautiful Jonathan Adler, double walled, black and white paisley Starbucks travel mug. I loved it. Not just a little; it was an apendage. Over the next 3.5 months, it was my constant companion, holding for me a multitude of vices, mostly coffee, sometimes hot tea, always something. I hand washed it, hand dried it and put it to bed on a shelf by itself each night so that we would be ready to go together the next day. I had an unnatural relationship with this cup (those of you who know me may have noticed this, you can call off the intervention).

Today, as I prepared to fill it with chai tea for my ride to rehearsal, it slipped from my hand and shattered into pieces in the sink.

My reaction was unexpected to say the least. I was shocked at the sudden welling over of tears. I don't cry. And yet I was. Not just a little. Uncontrollably. As I became still and stared at it there, trying not to cry out loud, my family noticed that something was wrong. I was embarrassed at my reaction to the loss of a mere material item. I'm not a materialistic person. I don't wear jewelry, I don't drive an expensive car. I don't keep up with the Jones' (don't even know them). THINGS are nothing but things to me, so why was this so devastating?

The answer came to me as I drove to church for rehearsal. Sipping from my old zebra mug apendage, I realized that I had entwined that mug with a strand of my identity. I had made it part of who I AM and I had broken myself in the sink. I had become attached to a THING that I thought reflected my personality to the world without me saying a word. It was an egoic blow. A healthy one, which is why although it was painful, it felt good to cry. There was joy in it; a strand of my ego was broken away. And that is never a bad thing.

"Recognize the ego for what it is: a collective dysfunction, the insanity of the human mind." ~Eckhart Tolle

"Junk Shopping" is an Oxymoron

ox·y·mo·ron. noun \ˌäk-sē-ˈmȯr-ˌän\. plural ox·y·mo·ra \-ˈmȯr-ə\. Definition of OXYMORON. : a combination of contradictory or incongruous words.

Today, my friend Nancy S. and I went "junk shopping".

The focus of our journey was to find a piece of furniture for a very low price that Nancy S. could transform from junky to funky with a coat of paint and new hardware. Now, let me stop here and tell you that I have been a professional junk shopper for more than 20 years. I have clothed my children (and sometimes animals), decorated and furnished my home, stocked my bookshelves and decorated for every holiday earthlings have thought up so far, all with junk store "deals".

However, for some reason today I realized what an oxymoron the idea of "junk shopping" seems to be. Who in their right mind would voluntarily shop for junk? It is amazing to me that at some point in time, there were people who paid retail prices for the millions of horrific and flat out ugly items of clothing and gimcrap we sifted through today. I never noticed it before in all my years of "junk shopping" how many worthless things there are in the world, and they are all grouped up in one place; junk stores. I couldn't help but mourn the poor cotton that sacrificed it's life for some of the hideous garments we witnessed. And could it be that the people sorting this junk have lost their minds? Item after item, now chipped and broken, that even in their hay day were a joke, sat in a line of shame, embarrassed that somebody in the back room had the audacity to price them at $4.95.

After the third store, I wondered, "have the stores changed or have I changed." Perhaps I had been buying and wearing and decorating with ugly, outdated and worthless items all this time and my friends were just too nice to tell me. Though the majority of the heaps of items were without merit, digging through them did not go unrewarded. At the end of our trip, I emerged with a crystal champagne flute that matches ones I have collected (all from junk stores) over the years, 2 books that I had been looking for, a heavy square glass vase and a cute tee shirt for each of my kids, none of which cost more than $1 (not counting time and effort).

On the ride home I thought, "I wonder if  these items are as nice as I think or if they just seem nice because of their proximity to all that garbage." As a reward for our hard work, we stopped into the Pier 1 Imports and that's when I realized why I "junk shop". Everything in the entire store was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous and shiny new! No junk here! The problem is that I'd have to sell my car to pay for them. Suddenly, sifting through that sea of crap seemed more worthwhile and what seemed like an oxymoron now looked more like common sense. Since Nancy didn't find her project piece, I guess we'll have to go "junk shopping" again.  But for NOW I'm off to cut some iris for my new vase, pour a shimmering new crystal champagne glass full of root beer and read my new books while the kids' tee shirts get to know their long lost junk store cousins in the washer!

FYI

antic n. A ludicrous or extravagant act or gesture; a caper. Archaic . A buffoon , especially a performing clown

idiom n. An expression that means something other than the literal meanings of its individual words

Being in the NOW

Today was adventurous and encouraging. I aced a test that I have dreaded for 3 weeks and visited with people who take the stress away.

Over the last several weeks I have made it my practice to focus on the present moment. Thinking backward...thinking forward...these are processes that often lead to suffering. Since the only thing I can experience is happening now, it would make sense to be in the now. So, Now I am creating a blog where I will talk about what's happening Now. So...

Right Now...

there are three tiny kittens in the guest bedroom, curled under the belly of their kitty mom

there is a loyal German Shepherd snoring behind my chair

there are two beautiful children sleeping in their warm beds, surrounded by their favorite things collected during their 7 and 9 years on earth

there is a stubborn man asleep on the couch, who exhausts himself daily providing for his family

there is a black sky outside my door full of sparkling constellations (which despite their beauty, are ignored in favor of television, blogging and dishes)

there is an empty bed patiently awaiting my surrender

there is melody. breathing bergomot tea.