OBJECTS ARE THE SYMBOLS of the self. The things with which we surround ourselves are reflections of our inner being, markers of our soul. This was a lesson we learned back in Chapter 4, but now it’s time to pay some more attention to the bits and pieces which are scattered throughout our homes.
Very few homes consist of just furniture and fabrics. Even the most minimalist of decorators usually places a few carefully chosen objets in equally carefully chosen spots. Look around your home and without doubt there will probably be hundreds of ‘things’ – pictures, paintings, ornaments, sculptures, knick-knacks and decorative items. Chosen carefully, they can make us smile when we’re down; give us a sense of peace when we’re feeling stressed; distract us when we’re feeling out of sorts with the world. Bought without thought, placed without care, they can irritate or overwhelm us. Often they can make our homes seem homogenous, a series of Stepford homes without individuality, verve and soul.
There are certain objects in my home which have no real purpose but which I simply love. A small Buddha sits on my desk and, whenever I’m feeling irritable because the writing isn’t going well or I can’t log on to my Internet provider, I look at him and feel, not a reproach but a reminder that there is more to life than the daily grind. He’s a little cracked and a bit uneven (I found him in a junk shop) but he has soul, real soul. And he brings a little peace to every day. I also have a variety of handmade or hand-thrown pottery which I adore. A blue and golden raku bowl somehow speaks of deep lagoons and ancient treasure troves: it reminds me of hidden riches and deep emotions. A large earthenware platter which was a wedding present from a dear friend has a rough, honest generosity which begs to be filled with food for friends or piles of nature’s spoils. Over the years my husband has bought me a series of bowls and dishes thrown and painted by a local potter with evocations of nature – they are shades of green with shy nature spirits and beautiful inscriptions scratched onto the base. Then there’s the strange Indonesian ‘lying man’ who lurks on my coffee table; my first ‘antique’, a table my brother bought me when I was only about 10; a faded and tatty rug which came from my parent’s old house; my childhood teddy bears …
These are a few of my favourite things. What do they have in common? They all lift my soul in some strange, unaccountable way. Thomas Moore, as so often, hits the nail on the head when he says:
Beauty doesn’t require prettiness. Some pieces of art are not pleasing to look at, and yet their content and form are arresting and lure the heart into profound imagination.
Images are powerful: they speak directly to the soul and can bring up intense, often forgotten emotions. If you find that hard to believe, see what happens if you pick up something connected with your childhood: an item similar to something you remember from your early home or maybe a modern replica of a favourite toy. Your hand curves around it; memories come flooding back; often you can be quite overwhelmed by the force of the past. An old wooden horse that belonged to my grandmother transports me to her small country cottage – I can even smell the mixture of cooking, tobacco smoke and slight damp. Picking up a skipping rope I suddenly remembered all the old rhymes we used to sing in the playground and even ‘recaptured’ the horrible feeling of being winded when I fell over during a game.
Objects carry a definite charge – if they have a deep and meaningful resonance for us. Yet many of the things with which we fill our homes are somehow dead. They fill a gap; they provide a bit of colour, maybe, but they do nothing for the soul. Why? Because it can be hard to feel love and affection, or even awe and respect, for mass-produced items, made by machines from synthetic materials which turn out all looking exactly the same. They may be fashionable, they might even have beautiful images, but there is something lifeless about them.
On the other hand, something imagined by a human heart and lovingly brought into creation by a pair of human hands, will have a magical, timeless quality – providing it has been made with true vision and care. There is something alchemical about a craftsperson’s act of creation. I discovered it myself when I took a class in ‘primitive’ pottery. We used pure clay from a local riverbed and mixed it with rough sand, grit and water to make a strong earthy mix. Then we started to work the clay, building it up by hand with coils or slabs and blending it so the molecules of the clay were forced together to make a solid shape. Where there had been a lump of clay, a pot emerged. Then we left them to dry before plunging them into a homemade kiln and subjecting them to fire. What went in vulnerable and heavy came out lighter and tougher. My pots are not masterpieces by any stretch of the imagination but they made me realize just how remarkable a process pottery is and gave me huge admiration for people who can work clay into such beautiful forms.
OBJECTS OF THE SOUL
I have not tried wood carving and turning, glass-blowing, weaving, metal-beating, paper-making, basket-making and all the other list of crafts, but I can always spot something which has been made with heart and soul. Out of a whole room of objects there will be one that calls; one that claims a connection with your soul. Those are the items which will sit happily in your home, which will give you a quiet pleasure every time you pass. They might not be the objects which will impress your guests or shout to the world how much money you have or that you keep up to date with the latest magazines and trends, but they will speak quietly to all those who have ears to listen, eyes to see, fingers to touch.
These ‘soul’ items do not have to cost the earth. Often they are far cheaper than the flashy, showy fashion ‘objets’ which fill the interior design magazines. They are not things to be bought on a purposeful shopping trip. You don’t go out with a shopping list of ‘soul things’: they are objects to be bought over a lifetime, slowly, softly, with care and attention. If your house looks bare in the meantime, then you have options. You can keep it minimal (very tempting in itself); you can live with the old tat or you can fill the gap with nature (you might even keep it that way). What could be more beautiful than a curiously etched stone from the beach? A piece of driftwood which might have been carved by a sculptor because it looks for all the world like an angel or a bird? A vase full of branches? An abandoned bird’s nest, moss-encrusted, a spherical masterpiece (but be quite, quite sure it has been abandoned for good).
Over the next day or so, as you walk through your home, become aware of the things with which you surround yourself. Do they suit you and your personality? Do they all fill you with pleasure or do some of them make you feel oppressed or depressed? Are there enough of them – or are you over-run? Things have the ability to reproduce at an alarming rate. You start off with one elephant which you love and, before you know where you are, everyone is buying you elephants and you can’t move for trunks and tails. It’s easy to let collections take over a house and you should be quite clear about why and what you collect. It can also be tricky because people buy us things as presents and, while some people understand our taste perfectly, many more don’t. If you’re feeling overtaken by your things, follow the tips for reducing clutter back in Chapter 8. Remember that the more you clear, the more room there is for true items of the soul to make their way gently into your home.
SOUL-SEARCHING
No-one can dictate what an item of the soul is – that is something you can only decide for yourself. But, as always, there are just a few thoughts I couldn’t resist …