Synchronicity

May 29, 2013

A tangle of personalities and war between landlord and tenant arise. Back in Brasil, Consuela is battling with her landlord to get her rental house in ship-shape. The little office building, that broke ground before I arrived in October, is just recently completed. A fight ensues over the unexpected increase in rent and a lengthy list of far-fetched tenant accountabilities has come to light. Despite the windy discussion that was subsequently incorporated into a document, signed, sealed, and delivered last year, there is no guarantee it will be abided by, no one with jurisdiction to assist the wronged party. It takes an exorbitant amount of money, time and bulldog persistency to ascertain what was agreed upon. Probably not unlike the direction our country is headed. Mercy.

Things, collections, stuff, goods, luxury items, basic necessities, hoarding and, scarcity become allies or enemies. After a long bout of not having any essentials of my own, I fear I have to admittedly dive-in and collect once again. For many years at a stretch, my daughter and I did not buy anything new. At times I did feel vengeful and frustrated that I had made that agreement with myself yet, at the end of the day, it certainly felt as though I was living what I preached. A grand sensation.

Several intimate people in my circle are changing their environments, moving in another direction whether downsizing and living in a smaller home or simple co-mingling, which, in the end, provides for me. I am grateful yet cautious to not to purchase or accept things  I do not absolutely adore. To collect is both perilous and contradict my beliefs. Six months in South America provided me with a distinction between my thoughts about my culture and the beliefs of those who touched my life. We North Americans absolutely do “have it all” and yet we starve due to lack of awareness. A functional and sturdy can opener, for example, is hard to come by in Brasil. I find them available in nearly every shop in the US that I frequent. I marvel in their accessibility.

I actually love moving. Weird, I know. My indelible behavior pattern is to place the best treasure in a right locale. The technique is derived to absorb that favored goodie into my environment to create an ambiance of awe each time I enter the room. I like to create the sensation versus a focus on one thing in particular. The beauty of my pieces, collected from years of travel and crazy state-hopping (some downscaling as I relocated to Minnesota from Washington state) chant the memory of my purchase, gift or throwback. If I didn’t love it, I re-gifted, donated, sold it.

Papers are my albatross. They impede my progress to perfection. Stacks slide around the bottom shelf of the coffee table, end tables, nightstand, countertops, file drawers. They breed while I am not paying attention. Touch something once is my motto yet that particular rule eludes me with papers. Every scrap can be saved to generate a grocery list, items needed/wanted, important tasks, errands, notes to myself to never forget, books or films to watch and contact information. Much of it can now be recorded on my iphone however the incessant habit of collecting papers is cellular. Maybe an intervention is in order.