The reason for this activity is that I have been moving my bits and bobs out of my end of the garden studio and into the front bedroom, the room formerly known as The Zen Den and now known as the reading/ writing/ meditation/ sewing/ crafting and general arty-farty room. (I shall work on a new, more succinct name. If there was a fish bowl involved, I might call it ‘My Plaice’ but there isn’t, so I shan’t. It can’t be the Zen Den anymore because it is now home to WAY more activity and the air of Zenful peace has been somewhat agitated. Still creativity and restful, of course - just more, well, bouncy.)
And the reason I have moved from the garden studio is that I feel very strongly that it should be solely Andy’s art space. He is a way more talented artist than I am and I think he needs to be able to spread out and do his art properly because I am convinced he has the makings of a new career in his art work which means he will be able to step further away from being a vet. Also, his art is mucky - watercolours, lino printing, pen and ink drawing. And my art is clean - embroidery, sewing - and the two were never going to mix. So the studio is now Andy’s Art Workshop and I’m cosied up in the front bedroom. The only thing still to be moved is my Gran’s sewing table which is a renovation work in progress and I need to do a bit more shuffling around to find a suitable space for it.
Sorting through stuff (and disposing of some of it because I’d forgotten I had it and, quite frankly, if you are finding things you’d forgotten you had, you probably don’t need them anymore) and recreating a new order has caused me to think about life and activity in general. These days I am quite content with my small and quiet world. I’ve gone from visions of being a best-selling, globe trotting novelist to writing a poem about a worm just because it entertained me. I think, over the years, that my problem has been that I’ve flitted too often and too quickly from one Grand Plan to another Grand Plan, never quite being able to summon the gumption or conviction to stick with something long enough to make it valuable or worthwhile. I think my boredom threshold must be on the low side. Perhaps my mission is to cram as much into my life as possible? Who knows?
Anyway, I’ve realised that there have been four constants through my life that I keep returning too, that I never tire of. And they are reading, writing, sewing and gardening. Just those things. And I’ve decided that maybe I’ll feel more settled in myself if I stick to these four things and stop looking for the next new thing, the ‘could this be THE thing that’s going to help me to make my mark in the world?’ thing. Perhaps, after all this time, I’ve realised there is no mark to be made.
I’ve got myself organised now. I have recognised my occupations. As long as I can read, write, garden and sew, my life will be content. Nothing big needs to come from these occupations. The big thing is their ability to create happiness in life. And that’s big enough for me. I have my place.
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KJ
KJ