That Place is Called Home

Minimalism. Evasive. I’m trying it. Sometimes it seems to work. I definitely feel more peaceful in my own spaces when I have paperwork, clutter and projects left out at a minimum. This is easier thought of than accomplished. And this is life, a continuous evolution of the in basket.

But, last week, I walked circles around a set of tennis courts in the emptiness of an evening and felt the space was able to transform me within fifteen minutes and I wanted to bring more of that home. So, I spent the weekend working on that and it was definitely worthwhile. My space is cleaner, brighter and I am feeling like it will have a positive impact on my artwork and my productivity in general.

I’m giving things away. I’m selling things. I painted my bedroom walls a gallery white. Welcome to my world. I am not looking for a world of absolute order. There is a beautiful place for messes and sentiment and comfort and that place is called home. What I am looking for is a home that is not holding items I no longer need, that someone else could happily find use for.

I have read, recently, that it would be good for us to see the material items in our lives as more temporary. I am agreeing. I have tried the other approach, I have tried keeping too many things, becoming too sentimental. Feeling like I had too much cost invested to part with something. The rewards are there with the parting of items. The sense of sharing. The releasing of items outgrown into the world to be a blessing and addition for others. I like that. We all can make a difference in this way. In our world, there truly is enough to go around if we direct what we have in the right places.

c.s.