Heebie Jeebies?

Riding the motorcycle has given me the opportunity to explore areas I'd previously ignored. If we're not in a hurry to make time, we very often take the back roads that lead us through small towns. Places that soothe my heart. When my soul feels crushed by too much of society's stimuli, it's good to see that there are still places with front porches, one stop sign, one gas station, and kids running in the street.

During these rides I discovered the antique stores or salvage yards. Although I really enjoy the quaint shops typical to many of the small tourist towns, I much prefer the true antique stores. The ones owned by the type of people who could well sit on one of the shelves and look like they belong. The ones who are so eccentric you want to perch on the stool next to them and just...listen. I bet they have lots of stories to tell.

And their stores are the ones that hold the most interesting things. I usually walk in and stand in the center and just take it all in. I'll walk wherever I feel pulled towards. My son hates these places; has no desire to purchase something previously owned. And I tell him it's not so much about the purchase but about the stories in these places. And he warns that I may bring something back with me one day. And I wonder. Could things actually hold a piece of...'something'?

I must admit there are things you walk by that just don't feel right. There's that horse saddle I touched that hit me with a wave of sadness I just couldn't shake for the rest of the day. There's that small bathroom on the second floor of an old home with the antique dolls that raised the hair on my arms each time I tried to cross the threshold. I backed out and left. And there's others; but could it be? Could something attach itself to a material object just waiting for a new home?

And one of my favorite places was also the wackiest place. There were old weathered items that seem to have been salvaged from a gypsy carnival. By weathered I mean some were beheaded or missing arms or eyes. There were mannequin torsos 'planted' in the ground. And in the center was an amazingly old tree with a huge trunk and lots of branches that would be the perfect prop for a movie about witch rituals. And there were masks, gargoyles, friezes with scary faces hidden among the brush. And the place just felt 'wrong'.

You know that panicky feel when you realize you're by yourself in a corner and can sense you're being watched. But I was in my biker gear, I couldn't very well come screaming down the path that I had the heebie-jeebies. But the guy had amazingly old weathered iron gates and wooden doors. And there's one little building that was always the creepiest. It housed alot of oriental doors, things that looked like pews, strange sculptures and hidden in the back was something that looked like a confessional. That had the strongest vibe of them all. And even I knew to keep my distance.

When we went to visit last weekend, the guy was gone. Yuppies had taken over and slowly started clearing out alot of the clutter. Much of it is still there but not all. I felt sad that I'd never really talked to the other guy. But he was creepy, in a vibey sort of way, but I bet he had great stories. Or maybe not. Many of the mannequins were gone and much of the items in the scary building were gone. But the confessional was still there. And felt just as it always had. Not as strong and I wondered if it was confused. Or perhaps had lost some of its strength as the collection of items were distributed.

I noticed hubby kept a close eye on me that day. I asked what gives and he said he wanted to make sure I didn't buy something that would bring 'something' back with it. I laughed and said "so you feel it too"? So atleast I didn't feel like a complete fool. Or perhaps that just makes two of us...

You may ask why I keep going back

Well there are treasures and beauty 

hidden amongst the heebies

you just have to look

And isn't that like much of society anyway? 

You gotta search to find the beauty and the treasures?