Ceçi N’est Pas une Pipe
Welcome to Present Sense – a weekend curation for paid subscribers – with 7 sensory recommendations: something to SEE, HEAR, SMELL, TASTE, TOUCH, BALANCE and ENVISION. I typically include an audio guided meditation but today’s edition is an exception.
Would you travel 2,500 miles for a plate?
That may sound unreasonable, but the heart’s logic plays by different rules. It’s not governed by the laws of time and space – nor held back by the price of plane tickets and unpleasant weather.
I flew across the country to go through my late father’s belongings. I find the term “late” a strange way to describe those who have died. As if they’re caught in traffic but will show up in a couple hours. On the other hand, the word “dead” sounds a bit morbid. Though that is the truth – a reality that I’ve been actively reminded of this past week, as I sat amongst a pile of things that once belonged to someone who is no longer here.
Our family home was recently sold, and now bears someone else’s name. This was my last chance to walk the grounds where I once learned to ride a bike, paddle an inflatable boat, and plant my first vegetable.
Since the age of seven, I’ve spent every July here, a rural area three hours outside New York City. My father was a professor and had summers off, so we'd escape the city heat to retreat to this rustic space.
The countryside was a sharp contrast to our Brooklyn life. The singing sirens and humming air conditioners were replaced by the croaking frogs and cicadas. Instead of stacked up apartments, there were fields of hay and flowing streams. Our typical take-out dinners were swapped for freshly-grown vegetables.
Overtime, it became a place of celebration and gathering. It’s where my father and stepmother got married in 1997. My stepsister also tied the knot there in 2002 and my stepbrother did the same a couple years ago.
It’s where every branch of my recomposed family would get together every summer for a big reunion, which involved a BBQ, softball game, treasure hunt, etc. As someone who mainly grew up in France, it felt like a gathering straight out of an American movie. The ages ranged from a few months old (new babies popped up almost every year) to my almost-centennial grandmother.
It’s a place that many people – from San Francisco to Atlanta – came to call home. It offered us both a sense of connectedness as well as limitless freedom.
Decades of those memories surfaced as I sifted through the objects left behind. It’s strange how a lifetime can fit into 50 (dusty and mouse-pooped) cardboard boxes. Some contained books, old newspapers, photos, dishes, clothes… each one of them begging the question: retain or release?
What makes an object valuable? I recently watched an interview with someone in the fashion industry, who has a very large collection of designer shoes. When asked, which ones are her favorites, she didn’t list the brands but rather the significant moments each one evoked.
Beyond any financial value, we imbue things with meaning. Suddenly a mug, a t-shirt, or even a rusty box can become cherished beyond any price tag. Objects can take sentimental proportions beyond any material reality.
It’s not just a tobacco pipe – it’s the comfort of watching my father scribbling notes in the evenings. It’s not just a gardening trowel – it’s tomato-planting afternoons and worm-naming adventures. It’s not just a children’s book – it’s the paternal voice transporting me into dreamland.
Of course those memories live within us, as my partner wisely pointed out anytime I felt torn about leaving things behind. As someone who observes many Buddhist precepts, I’m actively failing at the teaching of non-attachment –– and happily so. Though I try to adopt non-materialistic views, I’m willing to shatter them momentarily for a beloved plate.
Objects tell stories, weaving the threads of our past into the fabric of our present life. Their sight, texture, scent, become mementos embedded with the sweetness of childhood memories. For this week’s Present Sense, I’ve decided to share some of my treasured finds, in the form of something to see, hear, smell, taste, touch, balance and envision.
In Joy,
Sabrina
PS: there will be no ‘Present Sense’ next weekend as I’ll be publishing my free monthly post, where I explore a different topic every full moon.
