environment editing
a home is a mirror
I’m sort of alive again. It’s finally warm enough in New England to meditate in the morning sun, let the breeze in, pick daffodils from the yard. I’m craving crispness. I’m craving nectar.
I recently spent the greater part of a week reorganizing our home. Cleaning the nooks that have been hidden in winter darkness. Dispersing plants around every corner of the apartment, no longer clustered & struggling in the two East-facing windows. The light can touch all of us now.
It’s got me thinking a lot about spaces & things. How our homes & possessions are extensions of us, and what our treatment of them says.
I’ve exhausted myself shuffling the same trinkets from room to room, only to shuffle them again an hour later. But it’s bringing me a priceless peace at the end of every day. I can rest when the last drawer has been rid of stray crumbs and every knicknack has its place.
Last night it stormed, thunder louder than I’ve heard in the entire three years of living here.
Three years of living here, and it’s just now assembled enough to pass as a home.
If you’ve never sold off 90% of your belongings and started over in a new place before, I’m not sure I can recommend it. It can feel a bit heartbreaking at times, but you’ll certainly learn a lot in the process of rebuilding. My only advice is to let it take the time it takes.
One of the first items we thrifted for our bedroom was a print of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by George Seurat, one of my oldest faves. It’s mounted in a fake bronze, slightly busted, ornate frame. To me, it feels consistently hopeful, a perfect depiction of how simple humanity can be. I like to think about all the worlds in that painting, all those people with their lives converging at this place. All existing in a moment of appreciation for a beautiful day. In the warmer months, the afternoon light hits the wall it hangs on just right, and lounging there with my fake fancy painting feels lush.
It’s been a long process, items have been acquired slowly, but somehow it’s like I blinked and the empty box we used to live in has transformed from an abyss to a mirror. When I look around, I finally see us reflected.
I see generations of my plants, their propagating children in the kitchen window, shooting off new life. I see a bookshelf heavy with words; some read countless times over, and some that haven’t been touched since the day we brought them home. Ephemera filling up corners. Stacks of vintage magazines. A fridge covered in memories and reminders. So many *things* where there was *nothing* for so long.
It makes me feel rich.
The modesty of it all is not lost on me; a lot of our belongings are tattered to hell, to be quite honest. We certainly leave our mark on things. Scorch marks on my dutch oven from the countless meals cooked within— fucking delicious meals too, if I do say so myself. Our couch is creaking more than ever, sagging in each of our respective spots, crevices filled with crumbs. And at the end of the day, it’s just a beat-up rental with countless flaws and questionable kitchen design — why someone chose 12x12 floor tiles for a countertop will forever astound me.
From sorting through old photographs to reorganizing our vinyl, it is impossible for me to come into close contact with these items, all the memories they stir up, and not feel immense gratitude for them. And with a new flow throughout the space, I feel a new flow within myself as well. It’s been a process of manifesting clarity of mind through cleansing my space. Both my anxieties and creative force are in agreement: it’s better this way.
As above, so below, as without, so within.
We don’t want to be here forever, but while we’re here, I’m committed to creating a space that cultivates creativity and growth. In many ways, this apartment has been a much-needed sanctuary, at the very least, a place to weather storms. She’s a real work in progress, but as she comes together into some kind of cohesion, so do I.
I think of it like we’re rebuilding ourselves together. Some day, I’m almost certain of it, I’ll miss this place.
this a lovely read ❤️ you've got me in the mood to add a little more tlc to my home. loved this!