“It’s like the love is gone.” My mom said.
She is getting ready to move into what will most likely be a much smaller space. It is an intense period of change and readjustment as she waits to see where her next home will be. Going though 14 years of accumulation and memories, choosing which to keep and which to let go, it is no small thing. Especially for such a sentimental and sensitive woman.
A friend helping her noticed a small rocking chair with a teddy bear and remarked that her sister had one just like it. Generously, my mother gave it to her friend. After all, my mother logically thought, there would not be room for such things in her new place, her friend would cherish the gift, and the whole point of packing early is to Get Rid Of Stuff.
Except.
My sister gave that little rocking chair to my mother years ago and every time she looked at it, sitting there behind glass on the top shelf of her entertainment unit, she thought of Donna. Her heart and presence would fill with her love for my sister. When this humble little tchotchke left with her friend, it felt as if all the love in the space left with it.
I heard the tears in my mother’s voice. The sadness of letting the memento go, the regret on acting too quickly, and the guilt of giving away a precious object. There was confusion about why this small thing was having such a big emotional punch. After all in the last few days she has purged bags and bags and bags of clothes, more pictures than she could count and has boxes set aside filled with far more “valuable” things for us kids if we want them. None of that bothers her. Why this little thing?
“It is like the love is gone.” She kept saying.
Of course the love in my mother’s home is held in her heart, not her things. It is in her generosity and ready smile. Her stories and “everyone is welcome” spirit. Of course her home still overflows with love even as it is changing form. She knows this and yet, “It feels like all the love is gone.”
Because, for my mother, that little rocking chair held, holds, everyday sacred power.
Sometimes in our consumer vs. minimalist world I think we can underestimate the emotional and spiritual anchors and containers our things can be. Certain things. Those things we invest our essence into.
Those things we elevate beyond well cared for material objects into sacred vessels.
Vessels that hold our love, intention, dreams, memories, connections… Touchstones of our deeper selves.
Not every knickknack, every gift, every picture, every piece of jewelry. But some, maybe a handful. Quality and price are not important. It is the love and attention, the using and engaging with the object that animates its soul.
It is why my friend’s grandmother’s wedding ring gives her confidence and strength.
It is why I write better with a certain beach stone near by.
Why I don’t replace my first set of cheap wooden spoons; bent, burnt and split with use and time.
Why my brother wants my mom’s old frying pan, long missing its handle, because of the sound it makes.
It is not “logical” and it is not always practical, but it is real.
My mother’s pain was not in letting the rocking chair go, but in doing it with out honoring what this humble physical thing held for her. “I just gave it away,” she said over and over. Unspoken, but felt through her tears and heavy voice, “as if it meant nothing.” She let her logic override her heart instead of inviting both into the process.
How often have I done the same? In the spirit of getting on with it, of clearing things out, get the job done, not getting wrapped up in emotion. I have overridden my heart in order to be more efficient and practical. Code for not feeling and being in the messiness of change and hard choice.
Have you?
Pain is caused when a sacred possession is gotten rid of with out proper reverence.
It is a denial of self, of the personal meaning we infuse into our life. I am not saying a three day holy ceremony is needed in order to part with a cherished object (unless it is), or that you should never part with something of deep emotional importance. But the awareness and honoring of the energy and spirit it holds is important. It allows you to make the right choices about when and how and if to part with something.
It allows your sacred vessels to do their job. Keeping you in touch with the deeper and more of You.
My mom is fine. In her wise way she allowed herself to feel the regret and guilt of her action, get the lesson and is now sorting though her things with more inner connection and guidance.
I know her new home will have all the space needed for her sacred vessels meant to still be with her. Everything else will find its new right home. Whether that is with her or somewhere else.
What about you?
What are your sacred vessels? Those objects that bring you present to your deeper realms?
Honor them, use them, cherish them, allow them to work their soulful magic on you. I will do the same.