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authenticity
September 2008 
MAGIC SHOWS & MIRACLES: Searching For The Authentic Self
Posted on Aug 27th, 2008
by 
GwenCaith
GwenCaith
Tonight, I'm preparing for an archeological excavation. Wanting to move to a new residence, I must deal wtih my packrat, hoarding based NON-METHOD of housekeeping.
In order to begin to pack boxes full of what I want to have in the next phase of my life, I must first determine what of my belongings truly ISN'T authentically me.
Having been diagnosed, many years ago, with a fractured, never-fully formed personality, an easy way to clarify and identify myself is to treat my gleaning, housecleaning and packing process, like an ARCHEOLOGICAL DIG.
Even when my now-preteen daughters were 5 and 6, the thought of using formal archeological excavation and salvage techniques was a fun way to approach household piles of messes.
Basically, the procedure is to take one clearly defined, limited area and clear it, layer by layer, top to bottom. The final step is to thoroughly clean and leave the cleared area in the best, most well-preserved condition possible, hoping to match the original condition it was found in, before messes and hoards of goods inhabited it.
I've lived in this house for 6 years. With hardwood floors, cabinets and paneling, copious amounts of Murphys Oil Soap and torn shirts to be used as cleaning rags will be necessary. They and trash bags and sorting boxes will be my tools, facilitating the discovery process.
What information am I hoping to reveal? For one thing, just how many Bibles (one of my many collections) do I actually HAVE? As I determine whether I like photography or nonfiction writing more, my home archeological dig findings should tell me, with certainty, which of these creative outlets has at least produced more product.
A question of weighed risks is already surfacing. As an epileptic that has been seizure-free for over a decade, am I secure enough with my muscle control and functioning, to keep and begin to use the smoky glass tumblers a now-deceased neighbor gave me? If not, the choice to give them to someone else will shed subtle insight, on both my eccentricities AND insecurities.
As a friend on another continent has promised me a long-ached for face to face visit in 7 weeks' time, I wonder if this season of discovery and refinement will lead to a time of joyful revealing, as my outward nature is examined.
Like the broadway musical character Pippin, I too, have "...wanted magic shows and miracles, mirages to touch...". In the end of the stage show by the same name, Pippin himself learns a lesson I'm heeding here:
"....I wanted such a little thing from life
I wanted SOOO MUCH!.."
He finally concludes, revealing what gift his own process of discovery showed him:
"....Well, I wanted worlds to paint
and costumes to wear!
I think it WAS HERE
'cuz it NEVER WAS OUT THERE".
Like Pippin, I hope my journey of discovery reveals lovely opulence in my life, too.
In order to begin to pack boxes full of what I want to have in the next phase of my life, I must first determine what of my belongings truly ISN'T authentically me.
Having been diagnosed, many years ago, with a fractured, never-fully formed personality, an easy way to clarify and identify myself is to treat my gleaning, housecleaning and packing process, like an ARCHEOLOGICAL DIG.
Even when my now-preteen daughters were 5 and 6, the thought of using formal archeological excavation and salvage techniques was a fun way to approach household piles of messes.
Basically, the procedure is to take one clearly defined, limited area and clear it, layer by layer, top to bottom. The final step is to thoroughly clean and leave the cleared area in the best, most well-preserved condition possible, hoping to match the original condition it was found in, before messes and hoards of goods inhabited it.
I've lived in this house for 6 years. With hardwood floors, cabinets and paneling, copious amounts of Murphys Oil Soap and torn shirts to be used as cleaning rags will be necessary. They and trash bags and sorting boxes will be my tools, facilitating the discovery process.
What information am I hoping to reveal? For one thing, just how many Bibles (one of my many collections) do I actually HAVE? As I determine whether I like photography or nonfiction writing more, my home archeological dig findings should tell me, with certainty, which of these creative outlets has at least produced more product.
A question of weighed risks is already surfacing. As an epileptic that has been seizure-free for over a decade, am I secure enough with my muscle control and functioning, to keep and begin to use the smoky glass tumblers a now-deceased neighbor gave me? If not, the choice to give them to someone else will shed subtle insight, on both my eccentricities AND insecurities.
As a friend on another continent has promised me a long-ached for face to face visit in 7 weeks' time, I wonder if this season of discovery and refinement will lead to a time of joyful revealing, as my outward nature is examined.
Like the broadway musical character Pippin, I too, have "...wanted magic shows and miracles, mirages to touch...". In the end of the stage show by the same name, Pippin himself learns a lesson I'm heeding here:
"....I wanted such a little thing from life
I wanted SOOO MUCH!.."
He finally concludes, revealing what gift his own process of discovery showed him:
"....Well, I wanted worlds to paint
and costumes to wear!
I think it WAS HERE
'cuz it NEVER WAS OUT THERE".
Like Pippin, I hope my journey of discovery reveals lovely opulence in my life, too.
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