Hangups

The practice of hanging things on walls began far before I could say.  In fact, decorating or communicating by means of wall-scape is so ancient as to represent some of the earliest human history.  The ways we deck the walls and hallways of our homes, however, are now quite varied and evolved from the hand-hewn messages in lost languages.  When I was a child, hanging art or portraits meant nails, hooks, and maybe piano wire; now, we don't even have to search for the elusive stud behind the wall's covering to hang even relatively heavy things.

What we display and where we elect to deposit things - that's another bit of fascination.  From magnetizing things to our refrigerator doors to peg boards and the insides of office cubicles to the sacred wall spaces in our homes, we choose what we want to recall, what we dare not forget, what we treasure, what we have accomplished, and what we have created.  My father had some real hangups over hanging things upon the walls of my childhood dwelling, warning of holes in the walls.  As such, it has been both liberating and vexing to adorn the walls of my adult abodes.

I stand in my office - the "Womb Room" I dubbed it upon moving here months ago.  It is to be the birthplace of books and blogs alike.  It is a haven for creativity, and at the moment it has two more things hung on the wall.  The items I hung yesterday have moved with me twice - first in the year following my husband's death, and finally into the home I bought to share with my mother.  They are nearly identical, but for the name on the plate affixed to each frame.  One bears my own moniker and the rank I held while I was deployed to Iraq; the other bears that of my late husband/wingman.  Since receiving the "Hometown Heroes" gift commemorating our service, we kept them in their embellished boxes.  It was simply too great a thing to see, too difficult a decision where they'd go; and so they stayed hidden until now - the place of honor they hold is either side of the French doors o my office.  It's sacred and quiet and something most folks will never see as they enjoy my home; and it symbolizes that it's okay for me to have something "just for me."

That's the real hangup that kept me from hanging up the twin frames bearing the names of the twin flames we were until death hid Steve on the other side of Heaven's wall - I have never believed it was okay for me to have something "just for me."  But he was, and he believed I was enough just for him.

So I stand in this office with a few things gracing its four walls, and for the first time, it truly feels like I'm preparing the Womb Room and the heart-seed to grow here.

Isn't it funny what happens when we see our hangups for what they are?  

They lose their power over us, and the result is empowerment of a new kind.

Jotting with Johnna

• What hangups have you recognized in your life?
• Where do some of your hangups originate, and where in your body's senses do they "land?"
• How have you handled these hangups, and what was the harvest you reaped?
• Have you changed the way you choose and display things in your space?
• Are there hangups keeping you held back from your dreams and goals, and why do they persist?

Remember:  you are so very worthy to have things in your life that render beauty, bliss, and the best from within you; and there is at least one person on the planet who could likely help you realize them.

Stay tuned.  Stay focused.  Stay well.