I bought this first row of seats from the Miami-Western
Theater in Oxford, OH, in a thrift store shortly after the theater closed,
probably 20 years ago. They took up residence in our cavernous Loveland
apartment with French doors and hardwood floors and no occupants for 30 years.
They’ve since been stored in our garage attic, taken out once or twice for
parties.
They will be perfect in this new studio. I can imagine
adults settling in to journal or be still; children snapping the seats up and
down, awaiting the premiere of one of their films. The possibilities are
limitless. Of course, I had no idea 20 years ago how they would, eventually,
find a home. I instinctively knew I needed them. I could say the same for so
many other things in my new space: the $10 harvest table, discounted art
supplies here and there, golden-tree lamp lined with furry animal-print
ornaments, the wonderful computer table my brother-in-law made for my first
office in Loveland, the yards and bolts of colorful fabric I picked up for $1 a
yard …
More importantly are the people: my best friend, a
neighborhood friend with a background and ministry in non-profits, my favorite
art teacher, my beloved sister-in-law who just happened to recently retire (I
have wanted to partner with her in something for so long), my longtime
spiritual and Quaker buddy and two gifted teachers who heard what I was doing
and quickly and thoroughly threw in. I am overwhelmed at the support. It means
I don’t have to go this alone; there are actually people who desire to help in
this. My Quaker meeting is just waiting to know what I need supply- and
people-wise.
Never had I dared to dream this dream. It’s not one college
or society prepares you for or even, really, explains is an option. Serving God
in whatever way she calls is, I believe, my most important work.
It had felt as if I’d been fighting it until a breakthrough
the last few weeks helped me see and accept –– this is BIG for me – that I am exactly where I am meant to be.
Certainly I have heard that repeatedly over the years and thought I understood.
Just wasn’t ready yet. I am not fully there, but it is
washing over me and sinking in as if to permanently stick. I had been moving in
this direction when, at a recent Quaker retreat, a Friend lingered to deliver a
message that moved something out of my path and projected me into another
frame. I wrote about it last post [http://salonforthesoul.blogspot.com/2012/07/remembering-i-am-loved.html]. He talked about the yes-and-no-language
of God, of doors opening and closing and how often, for him, the closing was
much more pivotal, though devastating to his ego and perception of what his
work would be.
I was riveted when another Friend spoke in worship about
seeing dark spirits leave people, then witnessing the healing and
transformation. I was so intrigued that we had an extended conversation because
I had never been able to speak to another Quaker so candidly about the
darkness. Most prefer to dwell on and in the light. He gave me some practical
advice and some scripture to read – only because I was hungry and asked.
Fortunately, I had my monthly pastoral/shamanic-counseling session
scheduled several days after I returned and, again, could talk to someone I
completely trust. Gary couched this idea of dark spirits differently, as
twisted love. He helped me expel some of that: a process we have worked on for
years, but not entirely in this new frame. He told me the negativity that has
attached to me can be sent to another realm, where it will get what it needs to
become love again and cannot return to feed on me. So, we propelled it. We touched
foreheads, he patted my hair and gently sang to me. I was transported somewhere
other-worldly and remembered who I am without those old, dark attachments.
Remembered not to compare myself to others, not to hold
myself to what society esteems as successful or even where my ego had me
trapped.
I continue to remember and am beginning to understand why I
have been collecting what I have been collecting. I am collecting what God
calls me to collect and doing with it what she directs.
• How have I
experienced doing something for no apparent reason, but doing it nonetheless?
• What’s it been like
when I have realized there is a purpose?
• How can I see God’s
hand in my life and work?
• How easily can I let
go of other notions that fill me about who I am and what I should be doing?
• How do I let go?
Just a row of
five discarded
theater seats
nothing special
except to me
historical marker
of the many other
fannies that had
perched here
stray wads
of chewed gum
glued underneath
patina of
what came
before
stowed out
of sight
until
the moment
ripe for a
new use
now only
apparent
to me
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