|My writing room before it got simplified.|
Well, I'm here finally....on Sunday! Time certainly flew this weekend. Last week I missed a whole week of classes at the college where I teach due to a very bad ear infection and perforated ear. I'm still getting over that and can't hear completely in my right ear. I guess these things take awhile to get over, but I'm certain I will get over it completely.
It's very strange not to hear out of an ear. Since one ear is blocked to the outside world, it's forced me to go inward a bit. I've started meditating more and cleaned up my office and made it into a little sanctuary of peace.
I used to not like coming in my office. It was stacked with books, papers, bags, clothes, etc. I did my work at the dining room table. Now that it's clean in here, I'm finding it a nice place to rest, write, work, meditate, etc.
It's a fresh clean slate in here. Anything could happen. The stale energy is gone and I feel a sense of ease. I'm reminded that much of my very first book was created in this room. I want to bring that creative energy back.
I like the room to be simple, not cluttered—just a desk in the corner, a chair, a rug, lamp, a computer. What more does one need. I work much better in clean, clear spaces. I feel the mind does not get stuck.
It's a bit like traveling the wide open road. So many places to go. A room for writing and meditating should be like that.
From my window, I can see our backyard which is in desperate need to be mowed, but my husband's allergies have prevented him from doing so. Behind the overgrown patch of grass, red tulips, clusters of blue bells and a sprinkle of dandelion's create their own bouquet in the yard. It's a wild bouquet—one that has not been tamed by a gardener's hand. I see the apple blossoms blooming on the tree and ivy is running up the trunks of the old oaks. The Japanese maple has got fresh green leaves. If I squint my eyes, it's a beautiful scene. Everything blooming and growing wild and mad. However, when I un-squint them, I see there's a lot of work that could be done.
The window in my office brings in so much light. I recall many days, between writing chapters of my book, when I'd get stuck on a section, just drinking my tea and staring out that window waiting for that spark of genius to take over—the moment when I became un-stuck.
Yoon and I have been here in this little house since February 2006—a little over 9 years. That's astonishing! Before we lived here we were constantly on the go and moving around. Before we landed here, I'd never lived any place for more than two years after I left home. But this house in Seattle has been quite convenient. It's close to everything and it's just big enough for the two of us. We still travel quite a bit, but this house has become our base—sort of by default, but it has served us well.
I have been getting the itch to change—to pack everything up and head out on the wide-open road. I'd like to live in other places. I'd like to have that feeling again where I'm not tied to any place. Time is passing and I'm still here. Here in this little house.
Yet, this house hasn't held me back in the least. I've been able to travel all over the world and always come back to its welcoming, yet wild, garden, warm my body near the fireplace, rest with a good book on the sofa, watch all the different flowers come to bloom like our pink camellia tree, the cherry blossom Yoon planted five years ago, and the Japanese maples that greet us at our fence door along with the purple clematis. Oh, and the irises and tulips, daffodils and sweet roses!
It's not a fancy place, but one that holds our hearts and so many memories.
Do you have a room of your own? How long have you been in your house?