I could begin this as my boo-hoo tale of how my coffee spilled all over my writing desk ruining papers, a binder and several books. But, there is great light in this dark tale. The coffee stained desk was parked in my bedroom, the “winter writing space”. Today, as the temperature climbed to near 50 degrees, the mess on my desk pushed me to clean up and migrate up to my three season Sanctuary above the garage.
The space heater was hauled in to warm it up a tad and then the move was on. A few hours later, my soul welled up. I sat, savoring the gratefulness I have for my husband who made sure that when we added on to our house, I’d have my own space. Love that man.
Let me tell you about my Sanctuary.
My writing desk is really just one of those cheap white tables that fold up – you’ve used them for graduations and garage sales. Straight from Walmart. I need lots of space on my desk to spread out as I tend to need several books at hand when I write. I cover the table with a quilt, hand stitched years ago when my children were small. Scraps of fabric found their way into this quilt from some of the dresses I made my girls when they were small. Yeah. Heart stuff here.
Atop the quilt sits a statue of my guardian angel who reminds me to be fearless. I discovered her years ago in a thrift shop. There’s a story. Feathers are also here – reminders of angels surrounding me. Quotes and pictures of family adorn my bulletin board for inspiration and to fill my heart with joy. I have a flower pot filled with fodder (quips and clippings) from random places that I can pull to prompt writing – my hatching station. I need to write about that.
In the corner is my personal library and my comfy chair I bought myself for my birthday last year. When you turn 50, you can buy yourself presents. Note to self: write about the library.
Behind my writing table is my art journaling table. If I am stuck for writing, I scoot over to art journal. This clears my mind and always, something appears that needs to be written down. Like magic. It’s the angels, I know.
I didn’t even show you my sewing corner. It’s a mess over there. 🙂
This room. Days get lost up here.
Where creativity runs free and the muses reside.
A safe haven from the world out there.
My sacred space.