A Pink Lego Handbag. OMFG.

After writing about the dark night of the soul, I thought it’d be a good time to raise our collective spirits with a bright white uplifting #retailtherapy experience–you could say I underwent a Jungian shadow moment.

Carl Jung stated the shadow to be the unknown dark side of the personality. According to Jung, the shadow, in being instinctive and irrational, is prone to psychological projection, in which a perceived personal inferiority is recognized as a perceived moral deficiency in someone else.(Wikipedia)

So I guess I’m now healthy and balanced and that’s our ultimate goal, right?

Since I decided that I NEEDED (need as opposed to WANT) a new pair of sunglasses,  I performed my usual high level due diligence research. My options were to drive to South Coast Plaza in Newport Beach OR take my chances with whatever styles were available at Nordstrom or Bloomingdales. All of those locations are not in my little town and with holiday traffic, I knew it’d be hellish parking.

BUT WAIT.

Apparently there’s a new game in town. How did I never know about this? How? It’s inconceivable that a biz could open HERE that specializes in high end designer goods and it slipped in under my radar? I can speculate that I’ve been a bit preoccupied with certain personal issues and while that might well be true –but if I had only known, perhaps it would have softened the extent of my pain.

Enough ruminating. It’s here, and to coin a phrase from one of my fave Seinfeld episodes, it’s “spectacular.”

This is a tease; I won’t actually give specifics yet. But this should make you salivate.

You know how sometimes a company gets it right from the very first moment? Like they’ve done their homework with fonts and graphics and design and PR and marketing and customer relations?

That’s this place.

The website drew me in and I was hooked.

But I really wasn’t prepared for the ENTIRE EXPERIENCE.

It’s at the end of a cul de sac in the business area of our city, not a regular retail location.

There’s a security gate and an actual guard who checks you in.

VIP parking stalls.

And then I walked in. OH EM GEE.

Bright white walls, bright lighting. All dressed up for Christmas.

And the PINK LEGO HANDBAG. See? I wasn’t kidding around. It’s GIGANTIC. Like almost as big as me and I’m FIVE FEET TALL.

img_6371And look at the holiday decor. AWESOME. Well done.

img_6372When I arrived, I was greeted by two lovely smiling ladies and offered a bottle of water, and I’m not talking the low end generic stuff. I’m talking about Fuji Water. FANCY water.

Since I was looking for sunglasses, specifically CHANEL, I was given a tablet connected to their online website and catalogue and told to choose up to 10 items to see at one time. Those choices would be brought down to me from the warehouse area. When my sunglasses arrived, I was directed to a seating area to try them on and decide if I wanted to make a purchase.

It was so easy. I pretty much already knew which style I wanted and when I tried them on, it was as perfect as I had anticipated.

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A quick bit of plastic exchanged hands for a minute and then my purchase was presented in a lovely bag with lots of little marketing materials.

A wonderful retail therapy day!

Here’s me with zero makeup but a huge happy smile cos I LOVE my purchase.

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Nice shades, huh?

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Holding Sacred Space

Sacred / Scared

Switch one letter and not only is the word changed, but so is the meaning. That opens up a whole new conversation about fear; fear of the known and fear of the unknown. I can admit that I own all of it in every form.

Recently, I was chatting about sacred space and how to define that concept. I wasn’t quite sure I knew enough about it to offer an intelligent explanation that would make sense-I’m still not sure it makes sense for a lot of reasons, but I know that it accurately describes how I’m feeling.

When we hold space, we release control. Yup, that’s about right.

It’s another way to show unconditional love. It’s SCARY.

According to GoodTherapy.org, around the midpoint of life, we start picking up hints that we’re not going to live forever. In Once Upon a Midlife, Allan Chinen describes how shocking this realization can be, accompanied by anxiety and grief.

Especially at such a point, a sense of the sacred can act to ground us. As the fact of “me” begins to lose its apparent guarantee of continuance as well as its centrality (because how central to the universe can I be if I’m not going to be around?), the universe is less and less about me. But perhaps I become more and more about something else, something larger than me.

As above, so below…

Carl Jung notes that, in this way, the ego becomes relativized and the process of individualization—becoming wholly who we were meant to be—is accomplished. We begin to live in a system of meaning where the earth revolves around the sun, the sun rotates through the galaxy, and the galaxy itself follows its own great attractor. Our experience then seems to participate in larger movements, whether those are our family or a cause in which we believe or humanity in general, a spiritual pathway or the life of the universe.

Everyone has trauma.

The only way through trauma is to feel it. If a person doesn’t feel their pain, their anger, their fear—if they instead repress it—it grows and festers, like a sliver that doesn’t get pulled out. But feelings like pain, anger and fear are painful and scary!  Feeling them isn’t fun. It takes a great amount of courage and strength to do so.

Holding space means letting go of judgment, of opening your heart and lending your courage; your strength. It means being there or not being there but communicating a safe environment like a safety net for someone you care for to exorcise the hurt within them.

Allowing that person to cry, to scream, to shudder; witnessing their authentic experience and reacting with love and acceptance to the extent that you are able, is a powerful way to support them in this most important spiritual and emotional work, holding hands physically and/or emotionally to walk through their journey of self discovery.

For me, it’s a little different. It might not make sense to anyone else but I visualize holding space more like a drawer I’ve cleared out in my bedroom or a space I’ve left empty in my heart. Being that resolute and solitary lighthouse, that beacon of shining white light on a dark and stormy night, blinking through the fog.

For me, this is sacred — even though at times it scares me to death.

 

(Featured image by Google/Pinterest)

 

De-tri-tus

Definition: waste or debris of any kind.

It’s a fact that our individual personas embody a plethora of idiosyncrasies, quirks.

Anima is the source of the female part of personality and animus is the source of the male part.

Anima is Carl Jung‘s term for the inner part of the personality or character, as opposed to the persona or outer part.

Facets.

Diamonds.

Yin and yang.

And then there’s me…

I don’t know if it’s a male/female thing, but I’ve got two powerful forces inside me that fight it out on a regular basis.

Side One: Clean freak. A coaster under every cup. Sparkling windows. Pristine bleached tile and grout. Yes, you CAN eat off my floors.

Side Two: Packrat. Bubble wrap saver, Box hoarder. Receipts from 1985 to present.

Regarding old bills and receipts,  I’m not sure if the rule is to keep them for seven years or ten years, so I’ve settled on forever, just to be safe.

Once a year, I roll up my sleeves, gird my loins, and purge the office of all the detritus that I can bear to throw out.

…Empty WinFax box from 1997…Keep or toss?
…Receipt from a chair purchased in 1985 we no longer have. Keep or toss?
…Wrinkled and then refolded tissue paper from a thousand birthdays and holidays. Keep or toss?

Here’s a wonderful elliptical that shares space in my multi-use office, sewing/crafting room – what a mess.

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

I threw most of the boxes away and all of the decades old wrapping paper. I saved the bubble wrap; I HAD to, ‘cos well, you never know when you’ll need it, right?

It was painful, but I feel cleansed.

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

Boxes and boxes of old phones boxes. Just empty boxes. Gone.

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

Nice neat books and financial documents.
Well, mostly nice and neat, definitely better than they were.
Look closely and you’ll see all of Emily Giffen’s books. I love her!

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

All my crafting supplies nicely organized.

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

Seashells, seashells, and rocks.

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

Every office needs a sofa, right? 

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

The view.

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

And finally, this is where the magic happens, my workspace, with a pretty little MacAir, ginger tea, and hand sanitizer.

 ***Notice how the dinosaur computer is a wonderful canvas for notes and pictures.

You didn’t think I’d be able to throw everything away, did you?
That’s something I’ll put off ’til next year, or the year after.

There’s no hurry; I’m sure I’ll have a brand new collection of empty boxes by then.

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

One last thing…my Retin-A ; save or toss? If I cut it open, I can probably scrape out the very last bit. We wouldn’t want to waste any of it, right?

What do you think?

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Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife