Altar-ation

In my cottage by the creek, the focal point of the living room is a large fireplace made of native stone. When I moved in, I started putting things on the fireplace mantel, at first just to have some place to set them while I was unpacking. It has evolved into a kind of an altar. The things on it now are there because they are "at home" on the mantel at the moment.

From the left, the items on the mantel are:

Eight-inch high Buddha statue, given to me by the friend with whom I stayed when I first arrived in Portland.

Laminated card with the Four Immeasurables printed over an image of White Tara. I bought this at Coyote Moon, a bookstore in Baton Rouge, to replace one just like it I had in Bay St. Louis. When I went back to the Coast in October, I found the original card in good shape, on a bookshelf above the water line. After I had finished salvaging what I could, leaving the rest to be hauled out when the house was gutted, I deliberately left the original card where it was.

May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness

May all beings be free of suffering and the causes of suffering

May all beings never be separated from the supreme joy that is beyond all sorrow

May all beings abide in equanimity, free from attachment and aversion

Red, incense-scented candle with image of a Hindu goddess in gold leaf, purchased at Powell's City of Books in February, set on a brass candlestick that I salvaged from my house in Bay St. Louis after the hurricane.

Orange calcite carved into a ball, which I bought a long time ago at a metaphysical bookstore in New Orleans called Golden Leaves (since relocated to Hot Springs, AR); set on another brass candleholder from my former home. The calcite was in a cardboard box with a lot of other stones and crystals that I had stored in the bottom of my hall closet. When I first went back to my house, I couldn't get to the box because of all the mud. When I returned in November to meet the FEMA inspector, I discovered that the volunteer church group who had gutted my house had overlooked the box of stones. I also had a similar ball of rose quartz, which I gave to the massage therapist in Baton Rouge whom I saw weekly during October and November.

Large quartz crystal cluster. It spent 5 hours underwater; it apparently did not float in the storm surge, because I found it on a shelf two inches from the floor, right where I had left it. On top of the quartz I've placed a Douglas fir cone from one of the trees in my yard here by the creek.

I'm using the cluster as a bookend for a collection of books on the Pacific Northwest. When I was staying in Dallas right after the hurricane, I bought a couple of travel books about Oregon at Half Price Books, not knowing exactly when I'd be using them. I always have an insatiable need to know about my surroundings, and especially since this is my home now, my new place and new life. So after I arrived in Portland in December, I began acquiring books about the history, politics, architecture, topography, and flora and fauna of the area.

The other "bookend" is a brass candleholder in the shape of a lotus flower, likewise salvaged after the hurricane.

A wooden box covered with silver and gold metal pierced in an intricate design. I bought it at an import shop in Gulfport, MS, several years ago, right at the end of a very trying time in my life. The box used to be on a three-foot tall bookshelf in my former living room, next to part of my CD collection and my CD player (which drowned.) It did get wet and is dirty inside, so I don't want to put anything into it, but every time I look at it, it reminds me of some things about truth and beauty.

Sitting on top of the silver box ... I don't know how this little fellow survived the storm surge without getting wet and moldy. He is a turquoise velour bear that I bought at a Barnes & Noble in Baton Rouge, LA in 2001 when I was there on business, and was one of a series of 'birthday bookmarks' (he's the one for December.) Last time I saw him before the hurricane, he was on a shelf in my living room a couple of feet off the floor, so I have no idea how he escaped being ruined.

Laminated card depicting Vajrasattva, the buddha of purification.

Card showing the face of a buddha, which had been on a similar "altar" on a bookshelf in my living room, right above the high water line. It bears a quote from the Dhammapada:

All beings tremble before violence. All fear death. All love life.

Comments

[marlaine]

how sweet all of those things are with them memories that are bound with them :)
they make a lovely altar :)
xo

[Kitty]

Thanks. :)

[Kitty]

Also, I keep thinking ... if things could talk, the stories they'd have to tell ...