I always like to look at photos of abandoned places. I shouldn’t say that. I don’t mean abandoned. I mean places that have been reclaimed by nature or left for time and decay to take over. I’ve always liked the thought of a house that has been locked up for years with treasures buried under layers of dust. (Check out this Paris apartment.) I was lucky enough to work in such a house for almost a decade.
And of course, the treasures aren’t rubies or gold (although I also think the idea of a pirate ship buried in a cave – thank you Goonies - is also pretty romantic). It’s that frozen human experience – a life and the memories are imprinted… kind of frozen in the space even as the ivy and bittersweet and trees grow up around it.
I think it makes a great story. It’s great because it is incomplete, with just enough clues for my imagination to decide how to piece together. That’s why I loved Beauport, because there were plenty of clues, but equally as much mystery to satisfy my imagination.
But I can’t live like that. So long as I have the option, I can’t even keep my couch in the same place for a year. If I do, that means my life is stagnant. Frozen. Like I am stuck in that time and space of a memory, even as the world grows around me.
Last night I moved my couch.
I move furniture when I’m stressed. Mostly, I move it when I need to change my world view. So now I’m viewing my television from the other side of the room. Truth be told, that was a main provocation as there is an elliptical going near the couch. But, no matter the reason, it does change the pattern. Of where I sit. Where I rest my water bottle. How I walk into the room when I come down the stairs each morning.
But they say, change your mind and you change the world. Or be the change you want to be in the world.
It’s nice to visit or glance at those petrified places. I am glad, though, I have the option to alter how I see my day and its mundane.
Tonight, I am going to move my desk.