Buddha has left the building

I can't help but notice that much of my time seems to be spent in search mode.
Searching for tupperware lids, searching for the mate of a sock, searching for something to put into my kids' lunch bags.
But I am also searching for answers. I scan website after website looking for information on the latest research about Autism, medication options, inspiring stories, and new treatments.
Lately though, I have been feeling a strong pull towards my bedroom alter which has been gathering dust and various, unrelated objects. Ever in search of more space with which to put all of the crap that we accumulate in our day-to-day existence, books, highlighter pens, paper clips, geocache toys and unopened bills all find their way onto the shelf that holds my sacred objects. These talismans of the mundane are not intended as offerings, rather their presence seems to mock my floundering practice. I am reminded how easily a spacious mind and spirit can become cluttered. This is not to say that sacred trumps ordinary. They cannot be separated for they both constitute important aspects of our human experience. However, I feel the need to carve out a place of purity where I can be reminded of stillness, constancy, and presence of mind to learn the answers that already exist.
I am really searching for truth and the more I look for it, the more it is always out of reach. It's a feverish pace that I set.
My alter reminds me to stop and wait. To clear and connect. To sit rather than search.
And when I do, I hear the screen door of my psyche creak open and a long shadow is cast on the threshold.
Buddha's back and he's brought cleaning supplies...