A long time ago I lived in Japan. Of the many lessons Japan had for me about how to live well, not least was the calming, restorative power of an everyday shrine.
Shines are ubiquitous in Japan. They're found not just in bucolic places like Kyoto but in places you'd least expect them, and I often found myself whipping right past one as a hurried down a busy city street. Out of the corner of my eye I'd detect something green and restful, and sure enough, wedged between two storefronts, there would be a small and bucolic garden temple.
Many of these little niches would be just big enough for handwashing and meditative gazing. You might stop for a few minutes, find your inner Calm, and leave behind a prayer.
When I returned to the States I looked for everyday shrines, and at first I couldn't find any. But after a while, I realized that they're everywhere here, too. The wall covered with posters of celebrities in a teen's room. The gallery of ancestors in your Grandparents' hallway. The snapshots of friends on your refrigerator door. These displays don't seem sacred, but they're shrines all the same, small places that make you stop, gaze, and sit for a few moments with a memory, emotion or wish.
In my home right now we are trying to eliminate clutter and so we're fairly shrineless, but the other day as I was making the bed I realized that the little shelf table pictured above, which is on my husband's side of the bed, is actually an everyday altar to past homes. Each object is a totem from a place one or both of us has lived: the framed photo is of the lighthouse in my husband's lakeside hometown (St. Joseph, MI) and was snapped by his father. The small bears were reassuring gifts from my mother, tucked into my bookbag on the night before a big exam. And the lamp is the first home accessory my husband and I picked out together after he moved in with me.
Every night when we turn off that lamp I take a quick scan of this little shrine, and in my mind I visit all those moments and places from the past, and I feel at home.
Best, Lisa
Well said! Thanks for reminding us of the value in decoration that holds meaning.
The shrine: That's what we jokingly called the area where my parents kept pictures of me - their one kid - lots of pictures of just me. It also had candles. Truly a shrine. And they say only children are spoiled ;) Heh.
Very Thoughtful. Now that I think about it, I also have something similar, but I never thought to call it a shrine. I like the idea of taking something of sentimental value and making it part of your home in a stylish and decorative way.
Any ideas on how japanese organizes their life - shelves under the floor etc etc - would help in a place like NY
Ah, the art of the meaningful and aesthetically pleasing tablescape/vignette! Subject near and dear to my heart!
If you only ever buy things you love, and buy them *with* love, and in the company of friends and loved ones, everywhere you look in your place will be a shrine, in some respect.
The bear-in-bookbag note literally brought a tear to my eye, but I am a big softie, and remember my Mom's lunchbox notes fondly...
I wish we all did stuff like that for each other as grown-ups. I try to.
right on/essential for our more panache than cash homes...
ptoo, your place got me on this kick...
i just like to sneak in some incongruous elements
(i.e. a small translucent glittery dildo when the stern aunt visits)
Gee, um, thanks.
I will say the chrome arm band I got at a Ft. Lauderdale leather shop looks positively civil when placed on a custom made stand and hit with a halogen down spot. :)