Through a glass darkly. The glass ceiling. Walking on broken glass. I'm still putting my house back together after the interior painting, but I'm also getting rid of a lot of stuff--and since I am a collector of almost everything, I have way too many things. I am particularly sentimental about chachkes people have given me--or the antique glass pieces from my family.
This morning, while cleaning out my china closet, where I had stored a lot of stuff to get it out of the way for the painters, I was shocked when a cut crystal bud vase crashed from the third shelf down on an old trifle bowl I use once in a blue moon. Glass shattered everywhere. I immediately thought of Krystallnacht and shuddered. Maybe I'm a little bit crazy, but I'll have a flash back to a historical moment in time--even though I did not experience it myself. It feels like a visit to the collective unconscious. Then I thought more practically, you klutz; you're getting so clumsy in your old age. (Cancel cancel I can hear my late 12 step sponsor say.) Then I dropped a set of silver tongs on top of an extremely fragile bowl a friend had given me flowers in a few months back. The tongs are fine. Next I picked up a faux Victorian frame I bought at a garage sale; I've been meaning to put in an old family photo. The frame's glass was cracked, though it can easily be replaced.
But what does all this broken glass "really" mean to me, and what is the meaning of four pieces of glass? And why in the heck do I have to analyze everything anyway? Maybe this is one of those times when a cigar is just a cigar a la Freud. The whole experience was just so darned startling. If glass is shattered in a dream, it is thought that it could symbolize breaking of both negative and positive things. For example, it could represent the breaking of illusions, denial, and deception. On the more negative side, it could also represent the shattering of dreams or hopes that a person has been holding close to his heart.
The items that broke were things I rarely use or even look at. I was not sentimentally attached to any of the items, and "should have" put at least three of them in my Salvation Army box, but didn't. But for some reason, it feels as though an inner guide caused something dramatic to happen today without hurting me just to get my attention--to be more mindful? I have been pretty revved up lately, doing ten things at once.
What do you think?
The rest of the day was fantastic. I spent time in my friend Chris's art studio brainstorming some art projects I want to undertake as a non-artist--and totally out of character, Frugal Fran decided to purchase a small painting that I have loved for a long time. Then I had lunch with Chris and her husband at a sidewalk table at Casa Playa in the Redondo Beach Village. Next came an hour visit at Starbucks in Palos Verdes with a former student who is leaving shortly for grad school, followed by grocery shopping, followed by spot cleaning carpeting and hanging paintings back up--and putting more things in the Salvation Army box. Tonight I watched Laughing Out Loud--a wonderfully touching film. This is one of those days when I have a whole long list of things for my gratitude journal at bedtime.