(I find it difficult to throw things away. It isn’t that I’m
a hoarder, more that I become strangely attached to Things based on a deep suspicion that everything has consciousness
and will feel the sting of rejection. Accordingly, I have to convince myself
that I’m probably wrong in order to summon up the necessary ruthlessness. This
suggests that I’m either uncommonly astute or a prime example of retarded
development.)
Why I should feel such necessity, however, isn’t fully clear.
Sometimes I become possessed of the notion that my days in the Shire are
numbered, and that I’m shortly to be moved on by fate to pastures new.
Sometimes I become possessed of the notion that my days in the densest of
material universes are numbered, and that I’m shortly to be moved on by one
divine artifice or another to pastures old but unremembered. And sometimes I
just wonder whether clearing things out is a way of revitalising the subtle
energies and attracting new things to brighten up a state becoming jaded. A
troupe of Chinese dancing girls with a hamper full of fried rice would fit the
bill nicely.
On which note, I’m currently listening to a mantra being
sung in Mandarin. Such a pretty language.
2 comments:
Smudging is also great to clear the subtle energies, so a throw out and a smudge is blooming marvellous. It may even leave room for your troupe to pop in...
Would dried sage burned on my charcoal burner suffice? I have no peach blossom, I'm afraid. I gather that peach - both blossom and fruit - is associated with young womanhood in Chinese tradition. The Chinese can be supremely lyrical when they put their minds to it, you know.
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