The Letting Go of a Teapot

A Tale of Decluttering; because it‘s never ‘just’ a Tea Set

I hold in my hand a teacup. From a set of tea things, kept in a place of display, in a cupboard that I never open.

I don’t drink tea.

Its clearing time. I need the space; the cupboard needs to go and the tea set is the last thing in it.

I place the pieces in a box. Mechanically, my hand wraps each piece in newspaper and I chant with each breath:

Back to the Wholeness Back to the Oneness Back to the Source from whence you came

I’m not chanting to the cups

I’m chanting to the swell of emotions rising with each touch, of each curve, and each delicate handle.

I’m remembering the me who embarked on a treasure hunt to find these beautiful shapes, the me who chose this particular pattern (feminine, but whimsical, not old-lady-ish). I speak to those versions of me present at those times, who are still there, in their own parallel universes, nestled in my memory banks:

I honor you, lover of beauty Your love and wonder of the delicate and the understated will always be part of you I promise you; This you have not lost, and will never do

To the fear of losing a vital part of Self: I release you with Love. Back to the Wholeness, Back to the Oneness, Back to the Source from whence we came.

And then, I’m remembering the me who had attached many hopes to this tea set. There was going to be random, ‘high tea’ parties. As something special for many women whose company I cherished, whose lives made mine fuller.

I speak to the now me, grieving the loss of gatherings, and the loss of light and lively friendships that relied on ‘popping in’ on each other:

I acknowledge and honor you, seeker and acceptor of friendship Giver of hospitality, trader of giggles and sharer of delight Although friends can’t drop by anymore and gatherings will now be scarce I promise; You will always have the means to reach out in friendship

To the guilt and regret of not having high tea parties when I had the chance: I Forgive you. I love you. I release you with Love. Back to the Wholeness…

And suddenly, I’m weeping uncontrollably, I’m hugging the teapot close to my chest. Heaving sobs, can bearly breathe; tears streaming down and blotting the newspaper print.

I remember now. I had hidden it away, and it had become a secret that I had forgotten:

I remember the me, who had planned to serve a beautiful breakfast for my mother when she got well enough to travel.

A pause in packing… until I can speak to my heart:

I acknowledge and honor you, my now and present self Who’s grieving her mother I promise you my Beloved, That Mother Love is Boundless It is not (and cannot be) contained in this teapot It is bigger than even this, this here now grief

And when I’ve calmed a little more, and my heart is more at ease, I also promise:

And Mother Love is easily big enough to let us let go of this teapot; get rid of this cupboard and make room for our own growing daughter

The inspiration to start writing this came from reading Bridget Webber’s story about the meaning we can consciously infuse with/attach to objects :