I like nice things.

However, while I like nice things, such as a beautiful mosaic or famous oil painting,  I don't have a need for them.

I also don't desire most nice things or salivate or orgasm over the thought of the latest Gucci hobo bag or top-of-the-line electronic, though I sometimes salivate over the thought of dark-chocolate which is not just a thing.  Dark chocolate is an edible thing.  Its purpose is to please your palate and senses and then travel down into your tummy- 

Well, there's something an antique can't do for you.

Want to take a trip into my world for a moment to find out how I feel about nice things?

True story: Two Sundays ago our dog, Apple, ate my cellphone.  Yep, I woke up around 10:45 AM to gray Nokia bits all over the blanket on the bed alongside one of her toys.  I guess she got tired of waiting for me to wake up and play Fetch with her.  So out of boredom, and perhaps because it smelled absolutely deblicious, Apple made a chew toy out of my little phone... and destroyed it. 

It was my fault.  I slept with the phone under my pillow.

Sigh.  Nevertheless, my tiny, rectangular Nokia, the Richard Burton to my Elizabeth Taylor, was dead.  We shared a beautiful, undeniably passionate history together, one that I'll remember forever.  The phone fit into my palm perfectly.  Its functions were easy to understand and learn.  The phone took shitty pictures and boasted the world's most annoying alarm, sure, but no object is perfect.  I laughed on that phone, cried and slobbered all over it, fondled it, burped and cursed into it... 

Sigh.

But to be fair to the crazy, adorable Beagle Mutt of my life, it was time to replace the old Nokia.  Not so much because the phone was seven years old (basically 100 in cellphone years) but because it'd already suffered cuts, scrapes, scratches, cracks, bruises, dents, falls, and, of course, a few angry hurls and crashes against the wall and floor (don't ask) before Apple eventually dug her fangs into it.

It's just...  I haven't wanted to bear the burden of a nice thing like a new phone.  Yes, I said burden.  New gadgets, while pretty and shiny, take time to master.  They contain extra buttons and useless applications.  Many are  obnoxiously colored (my old phone was gray) as well and either flip or slide open (GAH, my old Nokia was simply a lightweight rectangle that performed no fancy tricks).  And the functions one becomes accustomed to... are shifted to different buttons... which annoys me. 




Per my husband's suggestion, I almost purchased a Jitterbug, the "senior-friendly phone".   But it turned out that he was just joking.  And as I soon discovered, the Verizon store we happened to be in didn't sell the Jitterbug. 




Look, I'd already cringed and shuddered at the thought of having to go shopping for a phone.  The last thing I wanted to do was go to more than one Verizon store.  That entailed a trip to the mall, and I preferred death over that.  Death... or the "cleanest" piece of communications machinery, namely the small metallic-blue Samsung I wound up with.  It was free of charge on our plan!  Actually, it was one of two free phones thanks to our plan, so my husband upgraded to the same model in black.

We made our phones hump each other for fun.

Anyway, moving on, things take up space and they require maintenance.  Maintenance takes up too much time, responsibility, commitment, even money.  Time, responsibility, commitment and money that could be reserved or spent on more important and enriching goals, situations, people, endeavors, etc.    And, as it is, it takes me enough time to get up in the morning, shower, dress, brush my teeth, groom, make meals, tidy the house, walk the dog, juggle school assignments, handle an assortment of duties, sleep, etc, etc.  

All these things we don't think about and should value over tangible items... take a good chunk of our time, don't they? 

This is why I tend to look at most nice things, capture them with my mind, soak them in, embrace them with my soul, appreciate them... and then let them go.  After all, regardless of how beautiful or exquisite or historical, nice things are still... things.  Things capable of becoming damaged (by humans, nature) or stolen, even being cried over upon their misplacement, theft or loss. 

It's not that I feel I don't deserve nice things.  It's just that I honestly

• neither need nor want stuff that the world considers "nice" and shiny. 
  
• have more than enough on my plate that requires maintenance.
• don't enjoy becoming attached (mentally and/or emotionally) to material things.
• value real life experiences and food over stuff.
• don't see the point in nice-stuff ownership, especially when lots of nice things are meant to be stared at, not touched.  I hate staring at things and constantly worrying over their state.  I also hate flaunting-- people get punched in the face, stabbed, robbed, even killed for the latest devices, and it is stupid.
  

The nice things I do own, like a lovely blooming flower-shaped ring my mother wore or a detailed masterpiece my father created with his bare hands, have been passed down to me.   And I can handle that.

So, what does my speech on things have to do with this week's Tarot card, The Mice?




Plenty.  The Mice has to do with the loss of what we value, or what we've been taught to value.  This card questions our values, particularly surrounding tangible items, and asks if they're truly worth the time, worry, thought, love, commitment we put into them. 

Are these things worth our reliance?

This card is intended to remind us that things are only things.  They get lost, damaged, stolen and so forth.  It's life, and this is why we should think carefully about how much of ourselves we invest in the items we own.
This is why we should always be prepared to lose, let go of, part with our things. 

Speaking of investing way too much of ourselves into things, and allowing them to consume us, my Dad believes that the value of the Pope's garments, alone, is capable of feeding a third world country.  Folks, we're not talking the artwork in cathedrals, the structures, the gold chalices, etc.  We're only talking about the Pope's garments here. 

I know some of you are thinking why should the Pope be the one to give up his garments? 

Well, why shouldn't he?  Look at what the Pope stands for, who he represents.  If he doesn't want to walk the walk, he should sit the fuck down, and that's that.

The Mice warns about theft, loss, being taken advantage of, being taken for granted, being swindled, overreliance, deception, unethical principles and decisions, and the dangers and embarrassment that leaving a trail behind can attract.  Keeping your business to yourself all week will be the way to go.  If that's not possible, be very mindful of how much personal information you are sharing, especially the good stuff.  If someone asks you what you are doing for work these days, for example, be vague... and keep on trucking and quickly.

And don't follow a routine-- spontaneity throws others off.   Sometimes way off.

Be spontaneous. 




The Mice translates to the 7 of Swords (guilt trips) of the Rider-Waite deck.  Everything I've stated above about the Mice still applies, but it's important as well to keep from biting off more than we can chew.  As you can see in the 7 of swords, taking on a burden is going to prove a lot heavier than we'd originally thought.  Don't spread yourself too thin.  Keep out of the affairs and battles of others, for you could make yourself sick.

Don't try to be a hero.  You could hurt yourself, and that would suck considering you probably have enough to be concerned about already.  Ask for help regardless of its form, or allow others to help you.  Some will ask if they can help you.  Accept.

Remember, too, that no one is perfect or, rather, 100% reliable. 

Finally, be sure to follow up on anything owed to you.  Don't feel guilty about asking for what is yours or what you feel you deserve.  Just keep your requests classy and respectful.

Have a super week!