I recently stood on the roof of the ETEC building of the State University of New York at Albany’s campus and looked west toward home. The day was clear and sunny and the view was a stunner. I live at the base of the Helderberg Mountains (hills really) which are, I think, the dark blue line above the tree line (photo 1), also known as an escarpment. Along this escarpment, and part of a state park, is the Indian Ladder Trail. It is a worn rocky cliff edge path with small caves and seasonal falls of water. It is said that Native American’s used it to travel north and south through the area.
I not often enough travel the 15 minutes from my house to the John Boyd Thacher State Park and look east into the distance at the white shiny rooftops and towers of the SUNY campus. In autumn the view is unbeatable. On this day I had perspective from the opposite direction.
Due to the most recent murder and mayhem that has become these United States I have been thinking about things having to do with perspective. I have newly found that I and some of my family are strongly divided by truth and belief. Others that I have only a shallow FB relationship with are canonizing an evil racists rabblerouser. They are perpetuating his belief that empathy is a new-age fake term for weakness and deception. I can only say that the man was documented as having said bad things about good people all in the name of making money. Murder is wrong, but “how you die doesn’t redeem how you lived.”
As perspective changes with the view so the view changes with some much needed clean up. I KNOW that being the visual person I am my brain functions better when I have a clean palette. When I see space in my world I feel space in my being. Perhaps that is why the view from the park overlook is so soothing to me.
And that is why when I finish one project I do a cleaning of my space in preparation of the next project. However, sometimes that cleansing itself becomes a project. Most recently I picked up a few items along side the road; castoffs of someone else’s life. These were “free to a good home.” My favorite price. Cheap is good. Free is better.
This cabinet tempted me for days before I finally convinced my 6 year old grandson that we needed to load it into my car and bring it home. He, being a kindred spirit, was happy to oblige. And, for the brief 2 block ride home he sat, illegally, in the front seat of my car. Yes, we told his mom. Yes, She was angry. No, it will (probably) not happen again. And the cabinet fits the space next to the dryer perfectly.
I scored this charming set (!) of vintage luggage down the street from the same grandson’s 7th birthday celebration. As I was loading them in the car the “owner” came out of the house and said that her mother had used them on her honeymoon after her 1961 wedding. I’ve given them a cursery inspection and scrub with more to come, but oh, the story these bags can tell! I felt like a old movie bell hop as I tucked them under my arms and marched them into my house. Not gonna lie, I giggled.
I already have a small collection of vintage luggage that I use for storage and display. I have repurposed some and have plans for others. I refer you to a previous post June 20, 2016 “Reflections on an Old Suitcase on a Solstice Day,” But the beauty of this blue matched set is like something, well, from a movie. While I would like to keep them together I am not sure I have the space, physically or mentally. I am thinking of dontating them to the local drama club for their prop room.
As clean up and de-cluttering continue in preparation for the next project in the qeue I practice empathy for the children that have lost parents, the spouses who have lost partners and for the rest of us who have lost the perspective of kindness and understanding while the whole world is on fire.
swansroost 