Monday, June 20, 2022

Monday Mimisms ~ I Need a New DustPan

Now that the post-pandemic dust is settling in my life, I think I need a new dustpan! I've swept up so much that it's full and overflowing. Trouble is...I don't believe in sweeping things under the rug. The old proverb dates back to the mid-nineteenth century and refers to unpleasant or damaging things being hidden in secret and not seen again. Concealment. That can't be healthy, right?  I'd rather bring all the dirt to light; look at it, sit with it a molten minute and then bless it on its way. Pucker and blow. Poof! All of life's circumstances hold tribulation and joy; the strength of those emotions made stronger by the contrast of the other. The deeper you love, perhaps the deeper you grieve.  My life has been gathering dust in places I'd rather keep pristine - my heart, my body, my sanctuaries. 
Maybe I should stand in a fierce cleansing rainstorm. 

I had a dream the other night.
 My former companion and I were walking through an empty house. We each held a straw broom.

We walked together and aimed the end of the brooms toward the corners of ceilings, searching, swiping, smiling and laughing as we went.  Cleaning and sweeping cobwebs until they were all removed from the entire house. Room by secret-clad room. 

Sometimes it felt like we were cleaning up a crime scene (oh, if those walls could talk) and the next minute we were lovingly taking care of the space we'd shared with tender swabs and tears. It was cathartic. Curtains fell down. Oops. Rods clanged on the wood floor. Finials were finished.  Particles of us floated roughshod in spirals of history through the translucent smell of fresh new paint, covering us with all that was good and all that was still unfolding. 
It felt like a Celtic love ritual. Remind me to tell you that strange (real) story someday...

We swept. We laughed. We found cobwebs we didn't know existed between us before. Those needed a better strategy. Four hands on one broom handle, SWIPE. 

And then I saw amidst all the tender destruction, a new thing. Ah, a fresh view. Fresh air. Fresh paint. New rooms. New space. New smatterings of painted words. We caught the letters on our tongues like snowflakes, rearranging them into wholly unsmoked words.  It felt good. And necessary. It felt like revolution and resolution in one fell swoop. Afterwards, we were exhausted. And strangely...strangely...content.

The thing I've noticed about relationship endings? I can never just sweep it under the rug. Dust flies. It settles elsewhere. If you don't deal with it there's always just more dismantling to do in the next house you share. You don't necessarily have to shake things up differently for future relationship incarnations just because some heavy duty damaging dust mites hit your curly head in the previous one - but you do have to own it wherever you go.  
It will find you.


After all, don't you know that you've been carrying dust around on the inside of you for billions of years? We weren't knocking down unholy catastrophes (well, there was that one time when we thought we saw a mouse in the house and I screamed 'til I broke his hearing but it was just a pile of leaves)......instead, we were boldly rearranging our molecules. 
Now that's a different farewell, you see....

I like mandalas. They establish sacred spaces. If you stare long enough, they will help you establish you. They also remind me of cobwebs. And cocoons. And safety....  They focus your attention on all parts of your very own personal universe. They don't let you miss one small fraction of your life without inspecting it thoroughly.....if you're paying attention...if you're letting go of resistance....if you're fully alove......oh, I meant alive....or did I?
I like it.  Alove. 

mandala

Maybe you think your past is a misstep. But don't miss the step. It's dust mite gold. It's evolution. It's growth on a cellular level. We are made of stardust. It inhabits our DNA. It forges through our fragile veins like a river alove (did you catch that?)...

And when the dust settles, if you let it fall where it wants to, what you have is a more beautiful YOU. And what you gathered...will remain. 

I don't need no stinkin' dustpan after all.





*oops. Dustpan should be ONE word. Can't change title. Photos Pixabay*
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4 comments:

Mickey's Musings said...

Good post and very true. Your past is just another step on the road of life.
No need to sweep it away...learn from it and remember the experience.
What does not kill yo makes you stronger :)
Nancy

Anonymous said...

Love that you're posting again. I always enjoy your special way with words.

Mimi Lenox said...

Hi Nancy! I do believe in fully embracing all emotions. But I do wish I didn't have to go through heartache to be "stronger"...LOL LOL

Happy 4th!

Mimi Lenox said...

Anonymous - I need to encouragement and I thank you for that. Hope you're having a lovely 4th (if you're in the United States) and a good summer.

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