Way back when, I started what I said was going to be a series on all the little altars we’ve built–mostly unententionally–around the house. You can read about Recovering She, and the Backyard Mad/Sad Altar, and our altar for Sudan. This little altar is about to be put away, so I thought I’d memorialize it before it goes. I think these things sort of have a life cycle and this one has come to an end –maybe forever, maybe just for awhile

A couple of months ago we did the Artist’s Way at Monkfish. It took a bit of focus, the AW, and people would come to the house sort of spinning from work, the commute, and a maybe a teeny tiny bit on the low blood sugar side. So one evening I got inspired to have a little place at our front door where you could sort of let a few things go for awhile. Thus the Up in Smoke altar, or as the girl’s call it “the fire altar”. The sign in the frame says something vague like “burnt offerings…let it all go…up in smoke…” There’s a box of matches, a pen, some flash paper, and a bowl. Flash paper is this great stuff that magicians use. It burns fast and clean so that there isn’t even ash left behind. The idea here is to write down what’s buggin’ ya, touch a match to it, and drop it in the bowl. Now, I know that this doesn’t really make something go away, nor is it neccessary for people to come baggage-free to our house. (Good Lord! Can you imagine? I wouldn’t even be allowed through the front door!) But it does speak to some sort of hope– that stuff will improve, or pass, or evaporate–and maybe it creates a little bit of breathing room.

I thought this would just be for Monkfish-y folks, and I meant to take it down and put it up each week. (Because honestly, I don’t feel super comfortable keeping highly flamable materials on my front porch.) But as usual, my follow through was crap and so I just left it up. Later on in the week a recovering-Catholic friend came to drop her daughter off for a playdate with Cate. When I came to the door she was eagerly writing stuff on the paper. “Oh! I really need to do this!” she said with enthusiasm.

I love that. I’m so glad it was there for her. I’m so glad she was willing to play priestessy things with me. Hurrah for creative impulses, poor follow-through, hope, and playdates!