It is surprising how simply a little organizing and cleaning can transform a bedroom. I don't simply mean that the room looks nicer, but that it now feels hospitable, as though I have "marked it" in some way, and it is mine. While it is a work in progress-- a few boxes along the walls still in need of decluttering-- for the first time, I am beginning to use my room for more than just sleeping. There was a feeling of comfort here last night, as I caved away in the evening with an open notebook and a book about Thoreau. I have not had this feeling about a bedroom in a long time. As electronics--tv watching and video games--seem to have seeped into other quarters that I had claimed for book-reading and tea-sipping (thanks to laptops and wireless), I am now very appreciative of an additional haven to escape to with my books and pens. There is creative energy in need of tapping. There is a world--both internal and external--that desires artists' eyes.
This house-cleaning from top to bottom yesterday was an essential clearing of the land-- a ritual perhaps-- to begin the work of making my home an artist's studio. And what is my canvas? Like Thoreau, I have endeavored to make an art of living well....and also to carve out a present place in this landscape--to know the deep roots of history, the story of a place, and to sculpt a new way from the shell of what remains.
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