has been just one element amidst the general clutter of my apartment. My dog took it over as his bed, which I originally tried to stop but eventually gave up on – seeing as he was getting far better use out of it than I. Somehow I couldn’t separate myself from the visual & psychic hubbub of my apartment enough to make space & time to meditate. “If only I had another little room,” I would think. This was usually followed by some self-berating about how I was being lazy, etc.
Today I finally turned my largish closet into a meditation room. Nothing in there but my zafu & zabuton and a crate on which rests a handmade bowl which holds a couple of candles. (Um, and some sweaters up on the high shelves – can’t be helped right now). The light in there is quite harsh, so candles seemed a good decision. It’s not claustrophobic – it’s just the right size. A quiet space, set aside. Wonderful.
My dresser and clothes came out of the closet and are in my tiny bedroom now, which basically means that being slovenly about clothes storage will quickly create an uncomfortable environment that I won’t be able to just close the door on and pretend that it doesn’t exist. So, I’ve made way for additional mindfulness.
