possessions – The Hermits' Rest

Gifts of Love That Live On and On

No doubt I’ve mentioned before that one of my “love languages” is gifts. This is funny to me because I’m not a very good gift giver. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t like to just randomly give things; I want to give meaningful gifts. For example, we didn’t do much for Christmas this year, but I did give everyone in my immediate family (plus Anita and my neighbor Sara) t-shirts with the Hermits’ Rest logo and “Hermits’ Rest Ranch and Family Compound, Walker’s Creek Texas, Est. 2012” on the back. Most had their name on the front, too. I did this to support a local woman who started a t-shirt business and to celebrate ten years of the ranch. That had meaning to me. Of course, no one has worn theirs, but that’s fine. It’s the thought that counts.

And that’s the deal right there. Because gifts from the heart mean so much to me, I treasure them, often for years and years. I have carted some items that probably appear meaningless with me everywhere I’ve moved, because my heart softens a little bit when I see them.

Tiny, stained decoupage pansies my mom made for me. Been with me 40 years or so.

And when I look around my house, I’m reminded of people I’ve loved throughout my life, as if they are with me and supporting me wherever I go and whatever is happening to me.

Fu dog from Delores, my high-school boyfriend’s mom.

Sure, the minimalists think that things are just things, and they may well be correct, literally. But I’m more like a Japanese Shinto practitioner in that for me, objects have spirits, vibrations, or special meaning that is more than just their utilitarian form or function. As I often point out when someone says I’m rather “woo-woo,” there are many things in the Universe that we humans do not yet understand or may not even be capable of understanding, so who’s to say there aren’t special vibrations or connections between objects and people who have made them or touched them?

Mandala from India given to me in 1987 by Alice Davidson, a grad school mentor.

I know I put a lot of love into things I make for people that I hope somehow comes through to them. And I feel love from things people make for me or buy with me in mind. I feel little internal hugs when I am reminded of these dear souls.

My therapist/friend made me this mama bear necklace with protective stones around the time of my divorce from my kids’ dad.

My motley collection of objects helps me feel grounded and connected to my community, my spirituality, and my planet. I feel the love from long-departed loved ones through their gifts, and that brings me contentment and peace. That’s worth having to deal with a bit of clutter, I think.

Teapot from Mama Rose, my friend Jeff’s dear mother.

(And if you don’t like my clutter, don’t hang out with me!)

Jade from Delores, hand-blown glass from a coworker in the 80s, a bell from Aunt Joyce

People before Things

I’ve been thinking about this saying we always used to bring up when my kids were little and I spent a lot of time with women who chose a pared-down lifestyle so they could stay home while their kids were young.

It was important for us to let our children know we valued them more than fancy homes, cars, clothing, etc. I still feel that way.

To me, my family and friends are my greatest treasures (along with my horse and dog children). I value them way more than my house, my swimming pool, my turquoise jewelry, or she sheds. I guess I thought most people were that way. But no, I’m finding out otherwise.

Dog I care about more than any things she might break with her tail!

A Personal Story of the Problem with Things

Here’s what’s been blowing my mind recently. Remember the book club I was in with my neighbors at the Bobcat house? To me, the books were secondary to the people in the group, who always treated each other kindly and accepted each other for who they were, as different as everyone was.

Now, I never lived there full time like Anita did, so I only saw a couple of minor judgmental things said about some of the women. I mostly heard stories of fun gatherings, music, and laughter. Anita was included and I was usually invited.

Then, a “thing” got in the way, combined with misunderstandings and lack of communication. That’s always a deadly combination. Apparently a lost item of clothing was more important than friendships. This hit me like a ton of bricks. People thought Anita had stolen a denim jacket and given it to me. When I wore it to the last book club I attended, someone tried to take it, and acted like they didn’t believe it was mine.

They sold these in many boutiques, apparently

I ended up feeling guilty, like I’d done something wrong, but had no idea what. When Anita and I were pointedly not invited to the next two book clubs, I realized my “friends” had put their need to blame Anita (and me, by association) for a lost object above their years of friendship. Wow. And no one would talk to us about it. I did ask for someone to tell me what was going on. Crickets.

Of course none of our actual friends wanted to get involved. Who could blame them? They have to live there. They need to be cordial! And they only hear one side of the story, about how important the jacket was and how awful we must be to take it and “rub it in their faces.” And I, myself, knew I’d only heard one side of the story (and little of that, since it wasn’t a topic of conversation in Cameron, where we were dealing with getting a house finished). I figured I’d never know what other issues there were, and just wrote it off.

But it was really bothering Anita. She is my friend. I place her before things. So, I went to the store where I bought my jacket and got the receipt. They keep a record of everything there! I wanted to be sure everyone knew I owned my jacket, since it was so important to the group in Austin. I didn’t tell only the people who seemed to be so angry, because I wouldn’t put it past them to not share the info in order to maintain their version of events. people do that to protect themselves.

I’m under no illusion that proving I paid for my own clothing made any difference. From the earful I got from someone I’d really valued as a friend before, it became clear that Anita and I were back to being the unpopular kids, just like back in high school. All sorts of things had been misinterpreted and negative motives assigned to words and actions. Heck, I’d hate us if I’d done all the things I found out Anita and I’d supposedly said or done.

In high school I’d have tried and tried to get back in with the cool girls. Today I am just sad to lose friendships over things. It reminds me of what Lee keeps telling me, which is I can get myself into emotional trouble when I assume people mean well and like me for who I am.

Still. I actually still care about my former friends and have fond memories of them. I can see their point of view given their perception. I empathize with the people from that group who remain my friends. I’m so sorry I put them in an awkward situation over an inexpensive piece of clothing. Their friendship is more important than any things. I like them, just as they are.

My hope is that there are people who can forgive me of my less than ideal jokes, accept my cluelessness about situations I’m not a part of, and can deal with my oddness. If you are one of them, I’ll return the grace to you.

Life is too short to waste on judgment. I’m surprised this stuff has festered in me for so long. Time to forgive, forget, and let go.

Confessions: I Hate Unpacking and Worry about Drew

I’ll get this out of the way then share today’s events in our little ranch world. Yes. I hate unpacking. I especially hate it right now when every box is a surprise that I’m not prepared for. That’s what I get for not doing the packing on my previous abode.

Lee is very kind and has been bringing one or two boxes a day. Yesterday I found my collection of purple glass, which once lived in my periwinkle bathroom. I no longer have a periwinkle bathroom. So it’s in my terra-cotta bathroom window. I do have a purple guest bath, so maybe it can go there one day, when it isn’t actively in use.

This interlude is brought to you by melting ice.

I’ve had to figure out where many things go that I don’t have places for, since the big furniture items aren’t over here yet, most of which are storage items. Yay. I really need a linen closet, too, and maybe when the laundry room cabinets no longer hold stereo equipment, I can use that. Until then, bags and boxes sit around and bother me.

In good news of our tiny world, it looks like Buttercup, Peeper’s mom, has started laying again. That made me happy, until the egg slipped out of my hand and cracked. Egg. It’s for dinner.

In bad news, Drew is a bit of a mess. He had an injury on his leg when he was at Tarrin’s. We were not concerned. I accidentally hit it when grooming a couple of weeks ago, and it spurted blood, which I mentioned, I’m pretty sure. I was glad there was so much first aid stuff in the new trailer.

Well, today when I fed him, his little leg was all red. He must have gotten kicked or something. The water is all turned off because of the cold, so I could not work on it. I think the weather is getting better, so tomorrow or Sunday he can get a bath. He does have fancy new shampoo, though, to make him shiny and whiter.

What I wish Drew and I were doing. Photo by *@jesslowcher via Twenty20*.

Also, though, the other horses are hard on him, and he has all these missing hunks of hair. The older four horses who are here are always going after each other, so I guess he is getting it. I’m sure it’s normal, but Apache and Spice were never that nippy, so it’s new to me.

Fighting for dominance is everywhere, I guess, even our little world. Don’t get me started with chickens and the pecking order.