A Saturday morning when I was alone

I scrolled through my social media and noticed a post from a group I don’t belong to

It said “There is a new vintage shop in town the likes of which you have never seen……”

No other details just an image of a spectacular ornate gold footing supporting a beautiful gazing ball. Intrigued I saw only one clue: the address is on your phone now.

What in the hell I exclaimed with a laugh

I set my iPad down and picked up my phone. There it was a number I’d never seen. I abruptly closed my phone. I turned it off. I also had a compulsion to draw the drapes but at that point I turned and stepped out on the deck to see the real world my world of Rocky Mountains and old growth pines. “Bullshit scam” I uttered and returned to my morning revelry. I was obviously not meant for the modern world.

As the day unfolded I had a large gap of down time between business and pleasure.

I grabbed my phone and noticed I had five duplicate messages. They read “we at the vintage shop are here to serve you Diane, mind body and soul through your deep blue eyes please come there’s so much to see” oddly this message was repeated five separate times and referenced a person each time at the end of the post it read” I’m Shiree and I’m waiting for you with an extraordinary piece. And each the same it’s a different woman’s name. Perplexed and curious I decided to go for a run.

Throughout my run the messages haunted me. No amount of straining cardio could wipe this from my mind. Well I had art to play with and that most certainly will clear my mind I told myself.

Later after life’s distractions I finally sat down at my wheel. Going about the steps to prepare to throw I finally was ready to connect with the clay. Throwing to me is a meditation. As the wheel spun and the clay was a blank slate and the clay was an expression of my confusion today and although I wasn’t able to create anything worth firing I was calmed by the feeling of the clay under my hands. During cleanup I was flooded by unexplainable emotion. I made space to really feel the pain I was experiencing. Bad childhood, worse adolescence and pow I was thrust into adulthood at an early age. On the job I felt capable, proud and dedicated. It was a retail shop full of wonderful creations from so many artists. I

The store was called Earthcraft and I was the seasonal help during the months leading up to the most bombastic material holiday that society ever created. Hyperbole even. I was an abused young woman all of 16. PTSD, ADD and a mood disorder that allowed me to escape my body and my busy mind as I was constantly seeking relief. At this young age I was blissfully unaware that my past could also be my future if I remained on this destructive path. I was emotionally stunted and this would follow me into adulthood. The past littered with the wreckage of substance abuse, anorexia, and a seeming uncontrollable anger. The abuse I experienced made it quite impossible to become a high functioning adult.

I diverge from my original story because I had a sense I was missing something. I was drawn to the mystical and the emerging new age movement. Anything to stop the pain. My search for mental peace led me to this place after exploring dark arts, white witchcraft, Scientology (I guess they were unaware that I was too young to sign a lifelong contract and my family had no money so eventually they left me alone) Christianity, Druids, Buddhism, Baha’i and hypnosis. I was definitely a spiritual wanderer with a damaged past and an inkling that somewhere someone would teach me more and remove my pain to give me hope. Although definitely more settled and balanced this search has carried into adulthood. The here and now.

So I was perplexed about these strange occurrences with the vintage shops messages but I was also intrigued and curious. I guess I wasn’t aware that curiosity killed the cat……..