January 1, 2012. I haven't been active on this posting procedure for quite some time. Here I go again with a new year and new perspective. Well, not entirely new. But a re-vision of some things I've learned to accept and now find weariness as an attachment to them. For instance, the curio case of curious objects tethered to me for over 40 years. The thing is, I never wanted to be a curator of antiquities. These curios have been with me in this odd antique make-shift case for my entire adult life. Do we sometimes accept what's with us just because we blindly forget to re-visit if in fact we actually have to continue the relationship? Well, I have done just that with this parcel of curios I've packed, unpacked, packed, unpacked, etc. for way more times than I can count. And the truth is, I don't think I really like much of the stuff at all. They might be museum pieces. I don't want to host a museum in my house. I really want space and freedom from the old stuff. Here in 2012, I'm beginning by packing away the abundance of oddities. The snuff box that belong to my great-grandmother's grandfather, Hugh Dunlap. The eyeglasses, though quaint, stare at me with a longing look to be elsewhere. The broken porcelain pitcher. The lowestoft Chinese importware.The DAR brochures that belonged to my great-great grandmother. The Civil War relics. I know. Keep the old, but embrace the new. One is silver. The other gold. I don't want to throw it all away. I just want it out of my way. Out of my path so I can live more uncluttered in the present. I've been attempting the break for some time now and incrementally have succeeded. I take yet another step in breaking the bonds that, for me, hold me captive to ages past. My interest lies in the present and what each moment therein can teach me, offer me, usher me toward. In not making any specific resolutions for 2012, I have found answers already and unsolicited guidance into a new year. I look forward to the mystery of this year. So I'll pack away, carefully, the items I've cherished and protected for years. I'll save them and hope they won't be a burden to those who find them and might want to place them in another curio case. Perhaps I should rethink the destiny of these treasures before I pass on to my children and grandchildren an inheritance they might one day want to destroy or declare as a plague or menace. Maybe they'll be wiser than I and find a home outside their own home. Or maybe they'll toss these things into a futuristic dumpster and be done. I keep wishing for a voice from above to guide me in the choices I make regarding the future of these antiquities. I'm looking for the old bird who popped down from above and spoke clearly to Groucho Marks with a word of wisdom like, "Send these to me." For now, I'll go with the voice that said to me, "pack it in and move on". The space in my hall will be wonderfully, refreshingly empty soon.
