Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Here's one I prepared earlier. (Or how this space is me.)
Today is my first time working in my new writing studio and it somehow seems fitting that I should be thinking about physical space.
So far, I’ve lugged two boxes, an armchair and a bookshelf up two flights of stairs. I’ve unpacked, all the while feeling self-conscious because my partitions aren’t up yet and the fellow sharing the space with me (an artist, who seems like a very decent and considerate chap) can see what I’m doing... not that he's looking.
I’ve also left my cell phone at home, which contains all the details of how to set up the WiFi. So I’m writing this up on Word with a view to publishing when I get home
I have to admit I’m more than a little nervous: my Mum is spending some time with bambino so that I can do this. And while I am more than grateful, I can't help but wonder if he’s howling his sweet little head off and whether he’s agreed to consume any solids. I’m sure they’ll be OK and I agreed to be home 45 minutes from now but seeing as I left my cell phone at home, I won’t really know if they need me any sooner.
And, of course, I left the house an absolute tip. Beds unmade, piles of laundry everywhere, an ever mounting stack of dishes. And goodness knows how many unanswered emails and phone calls.
But I have this time and, however short and messy, I feel like it's important that I start the way I mean to continue.
Even though I am sleep deprived, worried about something else, wondering how I am going to do it all, conscious that my low grade anxiety is not helping me catch a break on this glorious sunny day.
The August Moon prompt I am addressing today is all about my perfect space and, in a way, I feel like this is what I am writing about. Specifically, the fact that I am writing this despite all of the things I have listed above seems to me to be evidence of a few things.
The first is that I feel safe here. It’s secure, it’s private and the atmosphere is one of mutual respect. I hear the faint hum of music, the occasional conversation, tapping on a computer, a printer whirring but other than that it’s incredibly quiet.
Then there's the white walls, the pale floorboards and my huge desk, which is nestled under a high sash window looking out onto rooftops in my neighbourhood and a vast expanse of blue blue sky. My space feels light, clean, open.
And lastly (for now), I am starting to inhabit this space with more of my story. My little bookshelf is full already. Maybe I’ll never pull the books off and read them but it feels good to know that they are here: May Sarton, Summer Pierre, Satya Robyn, Julia Cameron. I have at least half a dozen notebooks (probably more than I’ll ever use), tarot and oracle cards. As I type this, I stop occasionally to jot notes in my diary, items I need to remember: 3M hooks so I can hang up some cheery bunting; a tray for my coffee plunger and tea caddy; photos of my family; a battery for my Frida Kahlo clock.
This space is not finished, it’s not perfect.
I’m watching the clock and aware that my time is dwindling but for the first time today – the first time in a few days – I feel free. And focused. And so very grateful.
It feels rare. And maybe more than a little joyful.
This space is a work in progress. Just like me.
This post is my response to Day Eleven of the August Moon reflective writing challenge. You are most welcome to share your own response to the prompt in the comments below.
Otherwise, the next opportunity to connect is Reverb in December. Join us?