Monday, October 3, 2011

There’s a passion in which I like to indulge.  Not nearly as often as I’d like—time just doesn’t allow.  But nonetheless, when given the opportunity, I whet my appetite.

I suppose my passion began as a young girl, my father exposing me to what would become a favorite hobby of mine.  One that brings me great peace and calms me when the rest of the world seems to be spiraling at a pace that’s just a tad too fast.

Today the opportunity presented itself for me to delve into my passion.  Not for very long.  But long enough to take me away…transport me into a different time and space.  One of simpler times.  One where I could hold items in my hands from yesteryear and feel the energy they emitted as I wondered the story behind the piece I held.

So what is this special pastime I enjoy?  Strolling through antique and second-hand stores.  My father used to take my sister and I to these places on weekends when we would stay with him.  Although his was also a passion, it was more out of necessity that he trolled the dank, musky stalls set up by individual vendors in old buildings that provided places for yesteryear’s items to be purchased for a bargain price if the person searching was patient and knew what they sought.

Even as a small child, I found the greatest pleasure in picking up items and holding them in my hands.  The minute I did, it was as if their story would unfold for me to glimpse in snippets.  It wasn’t all crystal clear, but I’d get enough of an energy transfer to understand the crux of a piece.  Some I was drawn to hold longer, allowing my hands to trace over them, eager to learn more.  Other items held such sorrow that I couldn’t put them down fast enough, desperate to extricate myself from the negative energy contained within.  But all the items had stories to tell….

When I had a break today, I drove down to a local antique lane that I’ve been frequenting since I first became an adult.  A veritable smorgasbord of turn-of-the-century three-story buildings that span both sides of an entire block, my eyes twinkled with delight at the possibilities.  Parking my car, I committed to only explore three of the buildings, opting to leave the others for another time.

The moment I entered the first building, the oldness of it wrapped around me like a warm embrace.  Like being welcomed home.  And in a way, I suppose it was.  After all, as stated, I’ve been going there since I was first an adult.  Today, I chose to venture to the upper floor, followed by the main and then basement floors.  Though nothing struck my fancy to buy, I enjoyed glimpsing all the items presented.  Some were old.  Still others were collector’s items.  More were transports to a different era, depending on the clothing or collectibles contained within the booth.

Today was not a day where I could afford to dally long at any single booth.  Instead, I let my eyes wander over the items for sale, wondering about their background.  Perhaps I’ll be able to spend more time exploring next time. 

I did manage to make it through all three buildings in the time I’d allotted.  Climbing back in my car, I felt calm and at peace, something I always feel when leaving stores such as the ones I visited today.  I wasn’t upset that I hadn’t been able to linger longer.  Instead, I was appreciative for the break my little day trip provided.  For the creativity it sparked as I wondered over the history of various pieces I’d seen.  Most of all, I was appreciative of the opportunity to whet my appetite by indulging my passion.