on sacred objects
Shit is pretty crazy, right? Like… we are surrounded by things. So many things! Everywhere! I was looking around my apartment the other day and realized that everything in it was manufactured. Everything. The thread that makes my sheets, my sheets themselves. The packaging the sheets come in. The tags on them. The screws that hold my doorknob in. My door knob. The plates in my cabinet. The clay that makes the plates. The toothpaste, the toothpaste tube, the toothpaste cap, the toothpaste box. Everything!
This realization brought me to another one… that I have absolutely no idea where any of it comes from outside of a small print stamp saying, “made in ____”. How is there space on Earth for all of these objects and their many variations in color, form, style and makeup? How is there room for their factories? Where even are all of these factories and how is everything constantly being made? And who is making them? What is their life like? Are they able to feed their families? Do they have time to make a family? What are their dreams?
Not many generations or past lives ago, we used to make everything we needed by hand ourselves. There’s a kind of inherent ritual spirituality to that, to humbly asking the Earth for tools and materials and then working with your hands to create what you need to live a better life. Or bargaining with your neighbor who specializes in something and trading the things you both have made, feeling the spirit and personality in each object and how in a way, that object transforms and holds a sort of sacredness. The ritual connection of sharing your skills with a neighbor who needs them. The incredibly tangible sense of purpose one must feel in filling a need that someone in your community has.
The way we consume now has robbed us of this ritual divinity.
As a child I was very sacred with my objects. So sacred, in fact, that I went about my existence like an ancient Greek augur, believing every item, every tree, every animal was a mouthpiece for God with it’s own soul and meaning and should be treated with reverence. While I was not dissecting the entrails of my stuffed animals for signs on whether or not today would be an auspicious day to go to preschool, I did at one point feed our guest bath toilet 5 rolls of toilet paper at once because it “looked hungry” (we had to redo our plumbing after that sorry, Mom).
But maybe I was onto something in that childish authenticity of believing (loss of the toilet aside, RIP)? It made me play with all of my toys equally lest one feel “left out”. I stored them neatly when I was done so they would feel comfortable. The belief that each one had it’s own sacred energy attached to it lead me to cherish them way more than any belonging I have in my adult life. What if we all brought some of that back? If I, in Marie Kondo fashion, started seeing all of my jewelry as being sacred, all of my books and records or relics from childhood as being talismans and jewels for the grounding of my unique soul, almost like a horcrux of positivity, what would that mean for me as a consumer? Would I still feel the urge to keep buying the new trendy thing? Would I still feel lacking? Or would I be more content with what I have and more confident in myself and the way I express it? Purchasing is so easy. We want something and we purchase it and we have it. We don’t have to look at or even know who suffered to make our garments, and most corporations do that on purpose. If we knew who languished to make our things, would we still buy them? If we could look them in the face and see their pain?
Imagine if the billionaires of the world practiced this idea of objects as being sacred. Would they still have this massive ego-driven need to covet and hoard wealth? Or would they be inspired to take less gargantuan paychecks and instead see the compassion in their workers that makes the billionaire a billionaire? Would they pay them living wages so that the wealth is redistributed throughout? Would they accept responsibility in the fact that their lavish lifestyle was forged in the blood and pain of people they are supposed to support and the deterioration of our natural resources?
If someone can see the sacredness of an object, how could one deny the divinity in another human being? If we showed more reverence to our objects, maybe we’d show more reverence to each other? If we can see a figurine or a seashell we collected years ago as being sacred, then imagine how we would view another living, breathing, dreaming human being. What respect, what compassion, what love could spring from that?
I am reminded of how we were taught, in school’s that were built on stolen land, that Native Americans used every part of an animal so that nothing went to waste. A deeply spiritually connected civilization that welcomed my ancestors with open arms and offered to share what they had and were met with abhorrent violence and catastrophic betrayal. Did my ancestors view them as objects, as nothing was sacred to them? To my British ancestors, Jesus was the only son of God, the only one capable of divinity. Did it make it easier to steal the land of countless civilizations by denying their humanity? (the irony surrounding the manufactured propaganda of the myth of barbarianism is astounding, where has a real barbarian to definition existed outside of the blood lusting white man?) Is this mentality how billionaires rationalize indentured servitude? Is that why the world is the way it is because we all deny the same-ness in each other so we can dominate with a clean conscience?
I don’t know, I simply have a bachelor’s degree in playing pretend!!!! But I do know that when I treat my objects with reverence, I have less desires and the nature of desire is that it is NEVER satiated so it’s best to be without. Maybe this is easier for me because I am a Taurus and love of material objects was engraved into my personality by the heavens themselves, but when I spend time with my things and am grateful for them - thanking my shoes for carrying me to where I want to go or thanking my jewelry for allowing me a vehicle to express myself - I find that I am opening up a relationship with them. They are serving their purpose and I honor that, rather than thinking “oh what can I get next to fill this gaping hole in my heart?” The hole in my heart begins to fill instead with gratitude and I am less inclined to take out any feelings of lack or unworthiness on those other divine, living, breathing humans around me.