From Where I Sit – Reminders

This week, voyeurs and the naturally curious will get an insider’s look at my office and with it some insight into one woman’s life. Are those shrieks of excitement or wails of protest?

My office is nine by 11 with a red oak laminate floor. The room has a large east-facing window with a sheer roller blind to diffuse the morning sun. Over the desk is a ceiling fan with three light fixtures. Not pretty, just functional. Perpendicular to the window is a T-shaped custom desk top fitted between two sets of white laminate kitchen cupboard base units. Hanging above each base is an upper unit. They conceal home-office essentials not particularly attractive to look at. The desk surface is white laminate with a black wooden edging. A black two-drawer legal file cabinet holds up the end of the desk furthest from the window. Two Ikea units tucked underneath provide my only drawer space.

The room itself is organized chaos. I’ve surrounded myself with the things that touch, move, and inspire me?words, mementos, talismans?reminders of who I am and what is important to me.

Because I love words they are everywhere. They do double duty as decoration and inspiration. There is ?Imagine? and ?Believe,? ?Write? and ?Integrity.? I filled a multi-piece black frame with seven inspiring quotations instead of photos. There are the immortal words of Yoda: ?Do or do not, there is no try.? A reminder that talk is cheap and actions speak louder than words.

This room of my own plays to the senses. A cinnamon vanilla candle and a bud vase with flowers from my garden provide fragrance. A small stereo brings Pachelbel or Andrea Bocelli to life if I need music to move me.

In a large glass floor vase I’ve begun stacking the rocks I bring home each day from my walk. Some of the prettier, more tactile ones are within reach, as are a chunk of rose quartz, blue lace agate, and a citrine geode. What some might consider visual overload is in fact just what I need: vases of every shape and size, sculptures, leather-covered boxes, original artwork. An oil painting of Puerto Vallarta serves as incentive to work hard all year for a week of reward in the sun. A mixed media collage painting of my own reminds me that there is another side to my creativity that needs nurturing as well.

And of course there are books, recently reorganized into three bookcases. Others sit in stacks begging to be read or reread. A collection of bookmarks wait to mark my spot.

A mini altar sits opposite my desk and reminds me that spirituality can take many forms and is part of every breath I take.

The only photo in the space, a small black and white one of my two sisters and me taken in the mid ?60s, reminds me of my roots.

I wish I could see your reminders, from where I sit.