Read your signature on the scattered ashes

An exercise in perspective, thinking, and writing, from Notional Slurry, via apophenia:

Think particularly about how these items came to you. The paths they have taken through previous owners . . .

What items there in the room with you could be used to reconstruct or rediscover a lost aspect of your life, when they pass along their eventual paths into the future and come to the attention (out of context) of other people who do not know you? What of your possessions might be used to differentiate your life from those of others in your demographic? To glean insight about you, when you’re gone?

The out of context instruction makes this difficult, since in context an observer knows immediately that I am an accumulator, a collector.  This room, the living room, like every other room in my house, is filled with art, artifacts, books, magazines, candles in crystal holders, and interesting (to me) furniture, rugs, and light fixtures.  Many of the things in this room were gifts, and/ or inheritances.  My connections to Alaska, Montana, and New Mexico are apparent in paintings and pottery. 

Also apparent is my lack of attention to housekeeping, and, possibly, the fatigue that keeps me in one place, surrounded by necessities:  laptop, pens, paper, books, telephone, and so on.  Draped luxuriously in various cushioned spots: cats, dogs, and the fur and toys that are evidence of their residence even when they are not present.

On a two-tiered half-moon table made for me by a poet-friend (who now makes very high-end custom furniture) is a collection of Buddhas, given to me by a carpenter's assistant who worked on remodeling the kitchen years ago.  He was re-committing to a childhood Mormon girlfriend, and compelled to release non-Christian tokens of his past.  How he chose me as the recipient, I do not know -- but he appeared one evening at my door with a dusty cardboard box filled with these  treasures.  He said they belonged here.

And so do I.

[To be continued]