I’ve just cleaned my office with the hope that it will tidy up my life. What remains on my desk are those reminders—practical and otherwise—that keep me honest.
Directly in front of me is a lithograph from the Metropolitan Museum of Art of a woman sitting on the porch of her summer cottage, naked to the waist, typing something. I presume she is barring her soul and that her truth will set her and others who read her work, free.
There is a sepia photograph of my mother as a child looking very impish and sure of herself.
Under my computer screen is a card given to me by a fellow Iona pilgrim which is nothing more than a bench upon which is carved: Sit here and feel the peace of Iona.
Several angels, one painted tin, another made of medal, and a third carved from wood dangle from a nearby window keep me company.
On the windowsill is a small candle holder which has carved into it the words: I am enough.
And a vase of a woman’s naked torso that fell off my desk and broke into many pieces. My husband glued it back together and I place dry flowers or leaves in it according to the season.
These are, but a few of my momentoes. They remind me to:
Bare my soul and seek truth; to be certain about self as I was as an unspoiled child; to find a place to go each day and just sit; that there are angels to lean on; that I am enough; and that, although broken I can piece myself back together again and again.
What do you surround yourself with?