Place

They say you can tell the contents of a woman's mind by examining the contents of her purse. The same might be said of one's place, whether one is male or female. Place is one of those multiple meaning words that covers contintents of cultural attitudes. She didn' know her place; she was in the wrong place; horses that do not win place; he lost his place; she was in a bad place-I could go on but won't. Churchill once noted that "We create our environment and then our environment creates us." My own experience seems to bear that out.

When Claire and I returned from our adventure in San Miguel I went through a bit of withdrawal and depression. A friend asked me what it was I loved about the place and my immediate response was, "the people, the color, it fed my soul!" He came back with, "Pam we have Mexicans and we have paint. Get over it!"

A few days later my home looked like the inside of a paint factory following an unaniticipated explosion of unknown origins. While some of those experiments do not warrant repetition, for the most part I know that I will always require strong colors on the walls, comfortable spaces on which to sit and lounge, a porch fit for pondering life's little issues, music to soothe or energize my spirit depending on the mood, art on the walls, books on the shelves, and appropriate beverages to offer-be it coffee, tea, or wine depending on the day and the guest's preference. These are necessary elements for me in my place. Clearly I am a long way from Buddha's notions of non attachment!

My friend Ginger has an entirely different point of view. She is an artist and a nomad. Her space requires that she live the life of a turtle-able to pick up and move at a moment's notice. If an item doesn't fit in her car then she doesn't really need it. Consequently there are few, if any, comfortable spaces in her home. All surfaces and areas are allocated as art space. She is not wrong in her approach. One morning she walked through my kitchen door, poured herself a cup of coffee, plopped down on the overstuffed chair in my bedroom and challenged me with why I did not visit her in her apartment. I explained it was because I did not enjoy sitting upright in a hard straightback chair. I am a sloucher by birth and definition. If I cannot curl up in a chair or a bed I have little use for it. At the present moment I am blessed or burdened with two rocking chairs that belonged to my mother and an era in which comfort was not considered a key feature. I am showing them a bit of hospitality until the daughters who say they want them show up and take them to their respective places.

My point here is this: whatever place one is in, let it reflect and inspire your Spirit. Our external space does impact the internal; hard as that may be to admit. If there are items that no longer serve or bring joy, bless and release them to their higher better place-the Goodwill store or your neighbor's next yard sale. Churchill knew whereof he spoke.....