Haunted Items & Broken Decor : Thoughts become Things

Thoughts become things, at least that is what my mother would say when relieving guilt after a trinket purchase. Thrift stores, antique shops, little road junkers or garage sales were a light in the day; an adventure.  Little alter objects, stones or memorabilia; like a trophy for a serial killer.She would light up with happiness if she found a lost item, a repairable 'thing' or something to resell. "One man's trash is another woman's treasure!" Sometimes she would sing, "finders keepers losers weepers," as she haggled an already rock-bottom price down even farther. The item became something 'more'. 

A moment in time, a trigger or anchor for mental thoughts and something that we begin to 'love'. Something we cannot bear to part with, and something that represents something greater than the physical; immeasurable and cryptic memories in time.  Psychometric energy is real. Hoarding is real. 

I try not to attach to things and have always found my nomadic lifestyle has helped this goal, but... I still keep secret collections. I still think of lost items, I still wish for a magical return of some priceless 'things' that have gone missing over the years. Something to help me 'remember'. 

As I grow older, I call them my curiosities. Items that spark a happy thought like Peter Pan's stuffed bear. Haunted items from others, for others, that represent others' energy and like a catharsis, the haunt becomes the purge. The removal of the thoughts to the thing help you feel lighter, like a hermit selling her things. The placement of thought to thing removes storage build-up, and like a Stephen King novel, you birth a 'needful thing' and hopefully take unwanted energy to the 'incinerator'. 

I've lost some items over the years that I miss - that I WISH I could find: a ring from my dad on my 13th birthday, my letter jacket from high school, my reel of film from my first trip to Europe, my grandmother's scrapbook of my baby pictures, my mom's guitar. The list is short, but it IS there.  So, I started to bring the items to me in different ways - 

This is my broken Hawaiian 1940's Ukelin. It was thrown out like trash just a month after my mom died.

I was unable to attend her funeral and this broken item was a strange piece of decoration that helped me to deal with my unhealed relationship.  It can't play or make music, it is beyond repair, but it isn't trash nor is it forgotten.  I dust it sometimes and when I see it, I think fondly of my mom and her gift of music to me.  A positive way to remember a broken piece of myself.