A Quandary With Space

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July 15, 2001: I am in a quandary. When we moved here from the city, we downsized. We got rid of many items I loved such as special pieces of furniture that had belonged to my parents and that I treasured. I disposed of a number of books, cleaned out closets and discarded many items over and above those things one discards when facing a major move involving a moving van and, for the first time, our packing our own goods for the move.

We have been here for seven years and the lack of ample storage that we formerly enjoyed plus our many interests that all drag a trail of books, tapes, supplies, programs or what-have-you behind them make the house seem cluttered. Clearing it and getting rid of the clutter means parting with things to which I am extremely attached and that I return to again and again. My pattern is to pursue an interest at full speed for a period of time, then I go on to a new interest and even others, and usually I then cycle back to the first and pursue it again at a different level.

My quandary: how do I get rid of the clutter when sooner or later I return to and reuse all these beloved resources? I formerly read books on time management, on simplifying one's life and belongings, on increasing sacred space in the home, and more. Then I realized these books take too much time, too much money, too much space, and they add the complications of lists, techniques, schedules to an already complicated life. 

Actually, all on my own I simplified my life a lot by moving here, by cutting out activities other than those that I feel I am absolutely supposed to do, such as our mission here at The Lair. It is spatial clutter that I need to clear and I must figure how to do this without having to part with many expensive resources that I reuse from time to time. At the moment I am waiting for an intuitive message from my deeps or even Divine inspiration.

Farris' simplistic solution is, "Stop acquiring anything. No more books, no more supplies, no more programs for the computer." Of course, he said this as he was ordering yet another resource for his current all consuming hobby of studying higher mathematics and astronomy just for fun. I am not sure I should listen to someone who studies higher mathematics just for fun, anyway!

Speaking of hobbies, Mitch is learning more and more about how to use his CCD camera with his telescopes and he sent me this gorgeous picture of the Ring Nebula:

ring nebula
M 57 Ring Nebula
Photo by Mitch Mitchell

Last week we sat out back and for several nights we watched the rise of the huge yellow harvest-looking moon. Just enough clouds were present to make it romantically beautiful. With our wide open spaces here the moonrise looked much like it does when one is on a ship in the ocean, except for the sparkling path in the water, of course. We also saw numerous satellites traversing the sky and several exquisite shooting stars, some quite large. Mars was a prominent reddish point of light that attracted one's attention due to its brilliance. 

Mitch also sent me a picture he took of the moon:

Moon Close Up
Photo by Mitch Mitchell

I am all for exploration of space, but for the romantic personality, increased knowledge sometimes causes a feeling of diminished magic. This picture reminds me of a love note I wrote to the moon a long time ago. No doubt you will discern just how long ago and what event prompted the note when you read

For the Silvery Moon in June

Your face is still powdered with moondust.
Yet you are not the same, though you still
send silver shafts to pierce the romantic soul
with undefined longings and glistening dreams.
We once thought your shine brought on madness,
and so it seems, so it seems.

When children glance at your changing face
they no long see you in your glory,
for what magic can there be
if there are only rills and hills and craters ruled
by a false frozen flag
incapable of rippling in the sheer joy of being free?
What mystery in abandoned glorified jeep and refuse
spread for future viewing?

You have gone nowhere, Moon,
but already we begin to miss you.
                                              Kramer Mitchell

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Last revised: November 26, 2010

Copyright 2001-2010 Rheba Kramer Mitchell. All rights reserved.