I am writing this entry today from a “new” corner of my home that used to be crammed with a file drawer, several storage boxes, and all sorts of odds and ends. It sits right beside a wardrobe closet that also used to be crammed with clothes that my husband no longer uses and all sorts of things that have sentimental value and, therefore, could not be thrown away. For months (or years), this area sat there like a 700-pound man that could no longer move from his tiny chair and who was just getting bigger and more grotesque.
Desperate for a proper work area at home, and sick of my own excuse that I was “too busy” to attend to my home, I spent the last couple of weeks going over every inch of my tiny home with a new set of eyes, asking myself, “What if this weren’t there?” Or, “What if this were somewhere else?” My eyes peeled through the layers of Stuff (and I capitalize this word for a reason), reimagining the spaces until the images in my head had a semblance of order.
My next challenge was to look for a storage space in which I could transfer all our important but non-urgent Stuff, because renting a larger home was simply out of the question. I called out to the Universe, who quickly responded by showing my mom such an area right beside her own storage area at her condo. In just a few days, I had the keys to a studio-sized storage area for all my things, and with an urgent deadline in my head and very little resources in my bank, the move happened over the past two days.
Everything that we hadn’t so much as looked at or touched in six months went away, clearing up a large corner in the bedroom for my home-office, and an even larger space in the living room for my husband’s rehearsal space. A lot of our things still need to be moved, and a lot of my clothes are still homeless, but the important thing was that we discovered and created space in our home that didn’t use to exist. Last night, I was in a joyful mood just going over the books that I didn’t realize were mine and working in a space where I could breathe and move.
Virginia Woolf had once written that “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” I don’t intend to write fiction anytime soon, but I do write a lot, and for the creative souls that my husband and I are, space is imperative. Space offers us the opportunity to imagine, reimagine, create, and actualize.
More importantly, space allows us to live, unencumbered by the baggage that we bring into our lives and by the unfulfilled dreams that lie gathering dust and cobwebs.
So, beginning today, the past shall be gone and the future shall be wide open. I’m looking forward to my own Easter miracle. 🙂