Many friends put pictures of meaningful events in their lives on their walls . Others have every horizontal and vertical surface covered with framed images of their loved ones at all ages and rites. People decorate their spaces or hold onto the memories that make up their lives in their own personal ways. However, there are friends' homes that make me feel 'at home' and there are those that clearly say 'you can't get comfortable here.'
Just as I used to be able to figure out the clientèle in a bar by looking at the bottles the bartender had behind him, I now like to play games about the kind of people who live in any particular space. My space is filled and I have conceded that it always will be. A barren house is like a barren mind to me. I love the stimulation of things to be read all around me. Most of the pictures on the wall are original art, a couple are prints or photographs but not of relatives (with two exceptions, my parents' wedding picture in 1910, and a pastel portrait done of my now deceased husband, when he was 4 years old). The piano always invites me to sit down and play a bit as I pass it.
I have a shadow box with tiny shelves holding souvenirs from some of my trips and gifts from others, like the little glassed-in princess my son brought back from the United Nations school trip when he was nine, or the lovely sounding 3" tall brass bell, on a handle, a friend brought me from Venice 55 years ago. When I sit in my patient-office chair, I can glance at that shelf of miniatures and feel years of my happy life pouring comforting feelings back into me. My eye wanders to a Near Eastern coffee pot from a dear friend; a barometer in a box built by one of my sons; a clock that chimes, built by my husband in the cherry wood he loved so much; an antique Chelsea clock that rings nautical bells, given to me by my father-in-law in appreciation for my having given him a 'talking' clock when he was legally blind over 23 years ago; and so many reminders of the beauty and creativity in this world. There are painted tiles from Greece; copper Gods from Japan (brought back in 1949 by my sister); dragons from India, given by my grandson on his trip last year, and so many other 'things' that represent people and their caring to and for me. With all this surrounding me, I do not feel lonely.
Have you ever looked around your own space with the thought of what it says to you? Have you considered what you want it to say? Are you comfortable in your space, mentally and physically? Are you welcoming people into it or are people uninvited until it is clean or picked up? If I waited for that no would ever step over my threshold! My space is clean but rarely 'picked up' because there is no place to put all the stuff that is there. Thus, people are welcomed to accept me as I am. My guests are welcome to make themselves at home here. I'm never sure that is easy for people who are used to order in their lives. I know how difficult it is for me to feel at home in someone else's space. Nevertheless, as long as people don't destroy things or hide them, it is fine with me.
My space, in fact, is my life. I have no desire to leave it other than necessity. Everything I want in life is here...my toys, my memorabilia, my hobbies, my entertainment, my bed, my toothbrush, and all other comforts. Do you to feel the same about your space?
Just as I used to be able to figure out the clientèle in a bar by looking at the bottles the bartender had behind him, I now like to play games about the kind of people who live in any particular space. My space is filled and I have conceded that it always will be. A barren house is like a barren mind to me. I love the stimulation of things to be read all around me. Most of the pictures on the wall are original art, a couple are prints or photographs but not of relatives (with two exceptions, my parents' wedding picture in 1910, and a pastel portrait done of my now deceased husband, when he was 4 years old). The piano always invites me to sit down and play a bit as I pass it.
I have a shadow box with tiny shelves holding souvenirs from some of my trips and gifts from others, like the little glassed-in princess my son brought back from the United Nations school trip when he was nine, or the lovely sounding 3" tall brass bell, on a handle, a friend brought me from Venice 55 years ago. When I sit in my patient-office chair, I can glance at that shelf of miniatures and feel years of my happy life pouring comforting feelings back into me. My eye wanders to a Near Eastern coffee pot from a dear friend; a barometer in a box built by one of my sons; a clock that chimes, built by my husband in the cherry wood he loved so much; an antique Chelsea clock that rings nautical bells, given to me by my father-in-law in appreciation for my having given him a 'talking' clock when he was legally blind over 23 years ago; and so many reminders of the beauty and creativity in this world. There are painted tiles from Greece; copper Gods from Japan (brought back in 1949 by my sister); dragons from India, given by my grandson on his trip last year, and so many other 'things' that represent people and their caring to and for me. With all this surrounding me, I do not feel lonely.
Have you ever looked around your own space with the thought of what it says to you? Have you considered what you want it to say? Are you comfortable in your space, mentally and physically? Are you welcoming people into it or are people uninvited until it is clean or picked up? If I waited for that no would ever step over my threshold! My space is clean but rarely 'picked up' because there is no place to put all the stuff that is there. Thus, people are welcomed to accept me as I am. My guests are welcome to make themselves at home here. I'm never sure that is easy for people who are used to order in their lives. I know how difficult it is for me to feel at home in someone else's space. Nevertheless, as long as people don't destroy things or hide them, it is fine with me.
My space, in fact, is my life. I have no desire to leave it other than necessity. Everything I want in life is here...my toys, my memorabilia, my hobbies, my entertainment, my bed, my toothbrush, and all other comforts. Do you to feel the same about your space?
2 comments:
Eve, My space is clean and nice now!
Cynda
I'll never get there in my lifetime!
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