There is an eternal landscape, a geography of the soul; we search for its outlines all our lives.
- josephine hart
It was a chilly day and I was restless, unsettled. I share a big house with my husband and our two babies, as well as his teenage daughter who lives with us exactly half time. All this house, which I tend to day after day, and yet nothing to call just mine. All the rooms had been divied up - kitchen, dining room, living room, baby's room, toddler's room, teenager's room, guest room, etc - and I couldn't claim anything as just mine. My soul craved personal space for writing, an inspiration board, favorite pens, secret musings, space to think and be someone in addition to my roles as mother and wife.
A corner of our master bedroom held a chest piled high with clutter. I pushed aside the clutter, moved the chest, and swept up the dust bunnies that had been hiding underneath. In their place I pushed the most amazing flea market find: a small oak table with deep drawers and just enough space for me to sit and do my thing. At the feet of the table sit a few of my favorite books on writing, including "A Writer's Paris" by Eric Maisel, and on the wall hangs a beautiful photograph of a rainy day in China purchased from an amazing cafe in Washington, DC that hosts rotating collections of artists' work. Each item associated with my table has been carefully selected (no clutter!). The perfect final touch is a beautiful zebra striped lamp sent by my lovely mother.
Sometimes all one needs to open the doors of discovery is a little space, a carving out of physical or mental space. Once you allow for this to happen, the magic follows. So go for it - find your corner and stake your claim. And let the search begin.
- josephine hart
It was a chilly day and I was restless, unsettled. I share a big house with my husband and our two babies, as well as his teenage daughter who lives with us exactly half time. All this house, which I tend to day after day, and yet nothing to call just mine. All the rooms had been divied up - kitchen, dining room, living room, baby's room, toddler's room, teenager's room, guest room, etc - and I couldn't claim anything as just mine. My soul craved personal space for writing, an inspiration board, favorite pens, secret musings, space to think and be someone in addition to my roles as mother and wife.
A corner of our master bedroom held a chest piled high with clutter. I pushed aside the clutter, moved the chest, and swept up the dust bunnies that had been hiding underneath. In their place I pushed the most amazing flea market find: a small oak table with deep drawers and just enough space for me to sit and do my thing. At the feet of the table sit a few of my favorite books on writing, including "A Writer's Paris" by Eric Maisel, and on the wall hangs a beautiful photograph of a rainy day in China purchased from an amazing cafe in Washington, DC that hosts rotating collections of artists' work. Each item associated with my table has been carefully selected (no clutter!). The perfect final touch is a beautiful zebra striped lamp sent by my lovely mother.
Sometimes all one needs to open the doors of discovery is a little space, a carving out of physical or mental space. Once you allow for this to happen, the magic follows. So go for it - find your corner and stake your claim. And let the search begin.
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