I've been sitting here for an hour and have started three posts and have known that they were shit the whole time I was writing but kept going because I need to write a fucking BLOG POST so just fucking WRITE A BLOG POST.
But that's not how it works. I'm much more of a Manic Crazy Random Frenetic Very-Mildly-Organized sort of writer. Inspiration strikes when it does. There have been days when my children have giddily watched five hours of television because, after their morning hour and a half (that I now simply allow without argument because, after years of pre-6:00 a.m. wake-up calls, I refuse to get up before seven anymore) a post has revealed itself and I need them occupied. (Because like every child that's ever been born in the age of computers, when they see me on mine they need me very, very much for all of the things forever and ever and why are you getting frustrated, Mama?)
But I digress (obviously).
For a few months now I've been searching for a long gold necklace. After I wrote this post about golden middles, and discovered that I'd quite accidentally (again, obviously) written the only firm set of beliefs I've ever held, I felt I needed an outward reminder - a sort of talisman. I looked on Etsy and narrowly avoided an Etsy Overwhelm Panic Attack. I kept my eyes open at my favorite local shop, Pale Circus. And I even considered looking on Ebay, but knew, for certain, that I'd be looking for a brown paper sack to breathe into.
I'm just not built for this stuff, guys.
And then the other day, Gabrielle Bernstein posted a photo of herself. She was holding a pendant in her hand and when I saw it I think I stopped breathing for real.
The hashtag said #vegajewelry and I immediately started obsessively researching, clicking and swiping and sweating. I got to the site and my panic grew, because I knew right away that I would need to eventually own one of every single thing I was looking at; this research was not budget friendly.
As I scanned the wild and raucous-looking pendants I was surprised to feel my middle settling. The price tag was incredibly daunting, yes, but I couldn't help but notice how at home I felt while looking at these pieces. Every one screamed at me, all edges and wild wrapping and bold bold bold.
It was heaven.
I sat with this for a few days. This knowing that I'd found the holy talisman I needed, and my real desire to avoid seeking inner peace through outer things. I didn't want to crave. I didn't want to pine. I simply wanted to sit with the knowing.
I homed in on the black quartz. I Googled "meaning of black quartz". "Tibetan 'Black' Quartz is a powerful stone with purifying energies and the vibration of the 'OM'. Wearing or carrying this type of quartz will cleanse the aura and protect it from negative influences, as well as helping ground the wearer."
Well shit if THAT'S not appealing. I know very little about crystals, yes, but I'm wide open, and I will take some protection from negative influences anywhere I can get it. And surely I need grounding. This is clear to all of us, right?
I spoke with my husband about the cost. I outfit myself largely at Salvation Army and the clearance racks at Old Navy and H&M; a purchase like this felt on par with buying a house or a car. And yet I could feel a difference here; in the past, I've obsessed about needing a thing. I know what that feels like. And then the needed thing comes in the mail and I'm immediately deflated because I have the thing but everything else is still the same and fuck. Classic, empty consumerism.
Tuesday, on the one year anniversary of my sobriety, I was in the middle of a completely shitty hour with my kids. The day had been beyond lovely, with a long walk to the river and lunch and coffee. And then things had deteriorated quickly, and I found myself thinking about the pendant. I was thinking about how much I wanted it. In the midst of feeling really shitty about my kids and really shitty about myself, I was thinking, "It would feel good to have that pendant." And that thought was immediately followed by, "Yes, but it wouldn't change one damn thing about this moment right now." Because hard things will always happen. This we know to be true. But perhaps the benefit of an outward symbol - part of the personal benefit of my tattoos, for example - is the ability to touch and remember. To look and remember, "Oh, yes, this is how I want to be. This is what matters. This peace."
Which was the moment I knew we would figure out a way to get my pendant home to me.
That moment came today while I was sitting in the parking lot at Target, waiting for my daughter to buckle up. An invoice arrived for another new Dig Sessions client, from a woman who's ready to get really fucking real with herself about what matters to her. And I'm the person who has the honor of going there with her. It's unreal, my fortune.
She said yes.
And so I said yes.
Because, my loves, the outward symbols of who we are matter. Do we need to drop hundreds of dollars every week or even every month to make ourselves look a certain way? Certainly not. But when a moment arrives when you get to say, "Yes. That piece of well-crafted beauty meets and supports the well-crafted beauty of my insides," please, for the Love, say yes.
It's okay to want and it's okay to receive. Keeping our consumer desires in check? Yes, notably important. For me, someone who tends toward Filling Holes With Outside Things, this is especially important.
But saying yes? Allowing beauty into your life because it reflects who you are on the way deep inside?
That's especially important, too.
To the grounding,