Category: Space

Comfort of a library~

9/14/2014

I just completed a 1000 piece puzzle of a library scene, aptly named “Sanctuary of Knowledge”. The picture reminds me of a university library of old, undoubtedly in England, with stacks receding into infinity. In the foreground is an elderly couple and a young boy and girl. Perhaps we are seeing grandparents and grandchildren reading together, the women and children sitting in over-stuffed chairs, the grandfather standing with book in hand by the fireplace. They are surrounded by several cats, books stacked on tables and an array of collectables acquired over the years. Angels fly in from the nearby stacks.

This comforting scene, with its moment of silence, solitude and simplicity, is worth a dream. I like to imagine that in the next minute someone will comment on what they are reading. Or, one of the cats, looking for affection and a comfy place to snooze, will jump into a welcoming lap.

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Experiencing silence: find your spot

4/13/2013

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Trust me, the goldfinch is in the tree.

Two of my best places to experience silence are out in nature and in my own home. I’m talking about the silence that makes me feel calm and centered, the kind that goes along with solitude and simplicity. A walk in the woods or on the beach in the winter are pretty safe bets for this kind of silence.

     My home is another good spot because I have some control. Right now I am sitting in the AR (Angel Room) watching a goldfinch perched on the tree, waiting his turn at my birdfeeder. Because it is quiet, I’m more apt to notice what’s going on outside my window.

    I’m thinking about this because earlier today I had to go to the mall to buy new walking shoes. I went to DSW, which is a rather attractive warehouse/store as far as displaying thousands of shoes goes. It was easy to walk past the high 4” heels and the equally high platform shoes. As I was trying on some possibilities, I realized that I was being invaded by loud, upbeat music. Once I became aware of it, it got louder and louder. What is the point of this music? Obviously to get me to buy shoes, several pairs, to move me from shoe to shoe, aisle to aisle.

     Well, I did find just the right pair, but one was enough. I couldn’t walk out of their fast enough to get home to the AR and see my quiet goldfinch friend.

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Beach etiquette and dogs~

12/12/2012

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I’m trying to figure out the winter rules for conversation and sociability on the beach. I thinking about this because here at the cottage (and on the beach) I’m into silence and thus conscious of all the sounds around me. Undoubtedly the standards for summer are entirely different, but here’s what I observed yesterday at low tide on a warm afternoon.

      When walking along the sidewalk on the way to the beach, the rules are clear. Any or all of the following are acceptable: nod, raise your hand as in waving, say hello, offer a one-liner on the weather. On the beach, the rules are different, probably because everyone is so spread out. But even within talking distance, the most anyone gets or gives is a nod or wave. That is, unless dogs are involved, and then all rules and etiquette are off. Owners feel perfectly free to let their dogs bark at you or jump on you, and are more than willing to converse with you (about their dog, of course).

     Yesterday (sorry no pic) a lady explained to me that she’s trying to get her new, very tiny, dog to be friendly. “I hope you don’t mind that he’s jumping on you. Since I’ve been letting him ‘meet’ people, he’s not as shy. I’ve only had him a week.”

      My role in this etiquette is to rave (as in wonderful) about the dog. “Looks like you have winner.”

     Thank goodness the Emily Post of dog etiquette doesn’t say I have to linger and talk. And thank goodness there’s something about the beach that keeps everyone moving, especially dogs.

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Simple clothes drying, day two~

11/5/2012

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The first trial-run of hanging laundry is complete. My husband has installed a clothesline, on a pulley no less, in the basement, and I have hung my first load. So far this hasn’t been simple, but I trust that some of the kinks in the process will be straightened out after a couple of more loads. Here’s what is making it NOT simple. One thing leads to another.

     One: The line sags so it needs to be made more taut. That can’t happen until the current clothes dry. That will happen more quickly when it gets colder and we start using our furnace.

   Two: Hanging with clothespins takes time. I’m going to splurge and buy a clothes rack so I can just lay socks etc. on the rungs.

   Three: A clothes dryer softens the laundry. Oh dear, do I want to buy fabric softener? If I do, will I remember to add it to the rinse load? Is there such a thing as biodegradable fabric softener? Should I use the dryer for certain items, such as towels?

      Getting this procedure in place is not simple, but in the long run it will be economical and eco-friendly. Granted, it will take a little more of my time. Let me rephrase that--it won’t be taking my time; I’ll be giving my time. Once I get into the routine, hanging clean clothes will be simple. I’ll be doing it in solitude, hanging in the NOW. And it will be silent, as far as the dryer is concerned. Oh dear, I’m not ready to let go of the furnace.

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House to myself~

10/20/2012

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I have the ‘house to myself’ today. The thought crosses my mind, “Oh, I can get a lot done.” How foolish. Why do we always think that time alone means time to get things done? Maybe it goes back to those child rearing days when there might have been some truth in it. I remember the usual dilemma. Do I get something done, which translated into tidying and cleaning up, or do I take a nap. The nap usually won out.

Nowadays, ‘house to myself’’ mean something different. I don’t have to get anything done; I can take a nap. Having the ‘house to myself’’ means simply that no one is around. It’s a subtle difference, but nice little change for anyone who sometimes like to be alone.

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Neighborhood silence~

9/24/2012

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My usual walk takes me through a rather quiet, simple neighborhood. The unpretentious homes exude warmth and good family times. Just the place for raising kids and then staying around to enjoy visits from grandchildren. Over the years I’ve become used to the occasional sound of a leaf blower or a car passing by. That was about it for machines--well, up until the other day. What do I make of the two motored carts driven by six year old twins around their driveway and lawn? It felt very noisy—the actual sound and the idea of it all. As I walked away I wondered about the man two houses down, sitting out in his yard reading.

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Steward of the kitchen

8/25/2012

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The other day while peeling carrots (for a carrot cake) I got thinking about stewardship and what that might mean for me there in the kitchen. According to Merriam-Webster stewardship is “the conducting, supervising, or managing of something; especially : the careful and responsible management of something entrusted to one's care.” My mind wandered from the stewardship committee that raises money for the management and well-being of a church, to the world wide ‘think green’ movement that tells us that we are all stewards of the earth.

Accepting the role of kitchen steward feels both proactive and soothing. Planning the menus and shopping, washing the lettuce and sautéing the onions, scouring the pans and wiping the counters, setting the coffee pot and filling the ice trays have been entrusted to my care. I can do it within an atmosphere of silence, solitude and simplicity.

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Convent of San Marco

6/14/2012

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Yesterday I visited my favorite museum/church in Florence, the Convent of San Marco, which houses the painting and frescoes of Fra Angelico (c. 1300-1455). You enter into a cloister and, if you’re so inclined, you can turn right into the room with the paintings. Or, as I did, you can cross the cloister and ascend to the floor with the monks cells, each adorned with a fresco of the life and death (there are many crucifixes) of Jesus.

     There is a rich fifteenth century history of silence, solitude and simplicity at the Convent of San Marco. Cosimo de’Medici (1389-1464) often retreated here from the busyness of being the unofficial leader of Florence. He came for study and contemplation. On the other hand, the Dominican monk, Savonarola (before he was burned at the stake in the Piazza della Signoria in 1494) lived at the convent as he rallied the Florentine citizens to lead a pious life and take back the government from the wealthy families and merchants. Interesting to note that neither men weren’t confined to one cell, but had a suite. Cosimo had two rooms, Savonarola, three.

       Even today, as someone drawn to silence, solitude and simplicity, this is the palace to be. Each cell is about 12’ x 12’. Back when monks were living there, we believe that all each cell contained was a bed and table and maybe a chair. What more could they hold, and besides, what else did a monk have or need?

       I have more furniture in this apartment than I need, but my belongings are simple. Just like at my cottage by the sea, I use few dishes, wear the same few clothes, and accumulate as little as possible. Like Cosimo, I’d love to retreat to a cell in the Convent of San Marco.

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Where's that consignment shop simplicity?

8/19/2011

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It’s not my fault that I can’t simplify and get rid of all the “sitters” and “hangers” around here. Even the local consignment shop doesn’t want most of them, not even the good stuff. I stopped by yesterday to pick up the print-out of what they are keeping to consign, as well as the boxes of treasures that they rejected. The list is short, the boxes full. I’d say they accepted about a quarter of what I left with them two weeks ago, and, their choices sure are fascinating.

The boxes in still in my car. What to do with them? A yard sale?— not simple and besides it would take time away from my solitude. Another consignment shop? The “Put & Take” at the dump? Sell on eBay? The church fair sounds like a worthwhile possibility. One thing for certain: I sure hope I don’t find myself unwrapping any of the pieces and putting them back on the shelves in this house.

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A room of her own~

8/9/2011

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I think I told you that my granddaughter and I toured the Emily Dickinson Homestead the other day. Definitely worth a visit when you’re in the Amherst, MA area. We heard how Emily was surrounded by the intellectual and social comings and goings of the area during her 56 years (1830-1886). By all accounts an introvert, it seems that Emily viewed much of the action from her bedroom widow; we also know that she spent much of her time there writing poems.

Those of us who sometimes like to be alone can resonate with how at times Emily may have felt. We may not be the recluse that she was, but we have myriad social and public happenings in our lives that can keep us from times of desired solitude. So, like Emily, we need our own special room, from which to view the world, and be our creative selves.

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<<Previous

Comfort of a library~

Experiencing silence: find your spot

Beach etiquette and dogs~

Simple clothes drying, day two~

House to myself~

Neighborhood silence~

Steward of the kitchen

Convent of San Marco

Where's that consignment shop simplicity?

A room of her own~

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