The Gift That Time Forgot

(A Gratitude Month Post)

I came across something while doing some deep cleaning the other day.

A simple crimson box in the corner of my bookcase, it was one of those things that has sat in the same place for so long that you don’t even register it anymore. Because I was purging my shelves however, this time I actually looked at it… and thought. I remembered that it was a gift, but I could not recall when I got it, or who gave it to me… or even if I’d ever actually opened it. Nothing on the outside of the box describes the contents - it simply informs you that it’s a Creativity Kit. So I stared at it a while, gauging whether or not I wanted to open the box and risk being sucked down a rabbit hole, or if I’d avoid temptation and toss it, unopened.

Curiosity won, of course.

Nestled inside the nicely-made box, I found a “creativity journal”, three small wrapped disks that look like soap (tho’ that seemed unlikely,) and something reminiscent of a pencil box, with kanji characters on it. 

Yeah, I’m going to dig further…

I opened the journal and peered at the introduction. “This kit is intended to pry open the door to your imagination. It contains two tools: one active and one contemplative.” The disks are actually decks of “positive creative action” suggestion cards and the journal is for “contemplative writing on… creativity.”  There was no mention of the pencil-box-y thing, so I pried it open, only to find a paper cylinder, which itself held a plastic bag of incense - tho' nothing fragrant enough for me to place the scent.

I pulled a stick out and lit it. I am no connoisseur but I recognized the aroma as one of the traditional incense smells (patchouli, maybe?) - one that propelled me straight back to the mid-1970’s, hanging out in the bedroom of my free-spirited friend Butterfly, with her riot of red curls, wardrobe of Indian print clothing, and incomprehension of why I was still a virgin at the age of 15. (Did I want her boyfriend to fix me up with a friend? NO! Ok, just asking…)

(Can you tell I was well down the rabbit hole by now?)

Next, I carefully peeled back the sticker on one of the action decks. “Clean your desk” suggested the top one (that’s what I was doing when you sidetracked me…) followed by, “Give away a piece of jewelry” … “Decorate a cigar box”… “Bake gingerbread men”… 

OK. I’ve got the gist of those. Now, what about this journal?

I flipped the pages open to the workspace itself, curious to see what the quotes and prompts looked like… only to discover that I HAD opened this before. There was a single entry in it, written in what I think of as my Dante period about 12 years ago. (See this post for explanation.) My heart sank, my rabbit hole turned into a pit, and I crash-landed at the bottom.

Ouch. 

I was pleased to note that the words on paper weren’t mortifyingly angsty (am I the only one who cringes when re-reading outpourings of Emotions Past?) but I cannot say I enjoyed being transported back to that time, either. I was, not to put too fine a point on it, a mess in those days. My dad had died, a 10-year relationship was just ending, and I’d realized I had lost hold of some indefinable quality, some spark that I’d always felt defined me. For the first time in my life, I was truly and profoundly alone - not just separated from others but from myself, as well. I was completely adrift…, and it was ugly.

This likely explains why I cannot remember the gift - that time of my life is not one I often choose to recall. (It’s not blacked out, but there are definitely some very heavy dust covers thrown over the details.) But still, despite the discomfort, I wasn’t sorry to read that one bewildered little entry, because it reminded me of just how very fortunate I have been. The whole process of loss and reconnection with that inner spark turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me, despite the misery of the struggle itself. It’s an obscure metaphor but the best way to describe the result is to say it reinforced my inner gimbal. I ride out tumult a lot better these days… a grace I'm very glad for.

So I think I’ll hang onto this little creativity kit. I’m not convinced my already-vivid imagination needs the help, but it’s always good to "pry open the door" to let gratitude in.