The waves of emotion I have been experiencing are not simply shaking me to the core, they are also washing layers of sediment off me. (I'm deliberately not calling it "dirt," not wanting to judge it or give it a negative connotation.) But yeah, "sediment" -- something outside my own skin, the layers of not-me that I coated myself with in order to survive, to hide from view, to leave almost no material footprint.
In my last blog post, I confessed to loving antiques. This seems to have opened up a floodgate. Over the weekend, I binged on old episodes of "Antiques Road Trip." No, this isn't "Antiques Roadshow," where people bring their antiques to be appraised. This is the rather wacky British variation on the theme, where two funny, telegenic dealers drive a classic car around the countryside, stopping in at antique shops. They start the week with 200 pounds, and then auction off the treasures they find (the money goes to charity), with lots of good-natured ribbing along the way.
Right now I am hanging on for dear life to clues to what I genuinely love, and so what are the clues here? Obviously, the UK countryside. Layers of history (in a different form than on "Time Team"). Humor and money in the same breath -- how refreshing!
Probably most importantly, here's the real truth; I love beautiful things. Paradoxically, I love beautiful "manmade" (and woman-made) things rather more than I do the dramatic natural beauty of many of the places I have lived. I've tried so hard to be an outdoorswoman, but that is not who I am. For the most part, I'd just as soon look at a gorgeous 19th century landscape painting than stand in the landscape it represents! I love antique silver. I love old china and odds and ends like 19th century railroad lanterns and woodworking tools. I love Victoriana and antique furniture and old photographs. I love antique clothing and all the trimmings, jewelry, umbrellas, purses, etc.
Now, here are "the voices," some of which I have actually heard people say over the years, and some I just imagine: "That's just your WASP heritage speaking. It's privilege, and privilege is no longer acceptable." "Who made these items? As is true today, many older material items were made by slaves or near-slaves, so you shouldn't buy more than you need for bare survival." "You are a creative person; get to work and make beautiful things, don't buy them." "Heck, you don't deserve beauty in your life at all. What have you contributed to the world?" "Poor people don't deserve beautiful things, or to dream of being surrounded by beauty." "Beautiful things won't get us out of the world's mess." And, "How does this align you with Mother Nature? You are going in the wrong direction!"
Grrr, contrarians inner and outer, chattering like crazy. There may be kernels of truth in these statements worth considering, and there may be kernels of fear worth addressing.
But I cannot ignore the fact that my heart leaps with joy when this show allows me to virtually enter these delightful antique shops, find lovely, beautiful things, and put my hand in my purse, pull out a bill and buy them. I leap with joy at the thought of taking them home, wherever that will be, and putting them on my shelf. Heck, at the thought of "owning" them. This has given me the chance to "own" more of my true self, to mirror myself in beautiful little objects that make me smile. And more than that, it is allowing me to own the idea of regularly seeing the world's bigger, greater art masterpieces and hear the world's great music, in person. When I took off for the wilderness all those years ago, it wasn't right for me, but I just didn't know it.
A while back, I wrote a blog called "Material Girl" which may have started this process. I may not resonate in the least with modern technology or fashions or cars or appliances. Those things never were enough to tempt me to be material. But as in so many other areas, I went too far in convincing myself that I was utterly non-material, that all I needed in life was a small borrowed monastic cell in the wilderness, a pad and paper and some ramen noodles, if that. Yes, I resonate with a reasonably solitary life, but apparently not with utter stark simplicity. I love beautiful items created by other people, and I want to be surrounded by them! Yes, bold type, italics and exclamation point! Another lie washes out to sea.
