Wednesday, July 22, 2009


My house came outfitted with doorstops that have never worked. The metal cylinder with the soft plastic tip fell off constantly and the door slammed open against the screw that was supposed to hold it where it belonged.

When we first noticed, a few days after moving in, we dismissed it as not urgent enough. We kept pushing the doorstops into place, only to find them lying on the floor against the wall. Every time I walked in or out I made a mental note I immediately forgot. The situation alternated between being irritating and being ignored.

It took us nine years to finally go to the hardware store, buy new ones, remove the old ones, and install the ones we had just bought. It wasn't hard.

A stuck window. A faucet that jiggles. Insignificant things don’t matter. Except, they do. They rob me of snippets of energy every time I realize they are still there.

It's less about being a control freak and more about giving my consciousness the vital, fragile space it needs to notice, distraction free, all the things about my life that are perfect and beautiful.

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