After the boys left for school yesterday I sat at my desk pinning. My computer is in front of a broad window with a southern exposure and despite the cold I lift the shade to let in the light in the morning.
As I sat still in my pajamas, clicking images and reading inspiring and pithy quotes, there was a ticker tape running through my head that said, “I should be doing something. I should be editing. I should do my homework. I should take Rosie to the vet. I should go get paint.”
But I couldn’t quite let go even to heat up my coffee and I realized that it is a sort of meditation. Further, isn’t it fantastic that I can begin my day surrounded, in a way, with a community of people that I have curated? People who live creatively and shamelessly seek beauty? Isn’t it fantastic that for twenty minutes I can enjoy the insights of people who share my interest in personal and pleasing spaces, who find joy in art, who want to take risks?
I wonder at people who spend their days with numbers and deals and screens filled with figures, though I know we need them, too. But in an instant, yesterday, I was able to see that I was doing something. I was wearing the track that I wanted my mind to follow that day, a day filled with gilt and color and light.
Image, a screenshot of my living room board, which contains a shocking number of rooms with white walls.