During a recent conversation with a friend about the frustrations of house upkeep, she shared with my husband and I a practice that she has employed to help keep her sane during the busy days of the week, when the house can get away from the best of us.
There is one place in her home (I believe she said hers was her night table) that, through thick and thin, come hell or high water, is always a lesson in simplicity. It is clear of dust and clutter, with just a few of her very favorite pictures and beloved items carefully arranged on it. While the rest of the household may be falling into disarray with the family's comings and goings, she knows she can go sit on her bed, take a few breaths, look at her Zen Space, and find a little peace amid the cacophony of clutter and chaos.
As she finished explaining this to us, I realized that my husband was unusually quiet. I looked over at him to see his mouth agape, his eyes wide & glassy. He blinked a few times, slowly turned his gaze to meet mine, and whispered with enthusiasm:
"Wow. I am so getting a Zen Space."
That night when we returned home, the minute we walked in the door, he declared to me, the kids, the dog, the cat, the fish, and the dust mites in the corners that the dining room table was now HIS. He was staking his claim, his right, his due. The dining room is a Zen Space--do not dare put anything on it.
My husband is a truly wonderful person, one who likes order.
One who likes things to be where they should be.
One who is still wondering what the hell happened after the crazy entreprenuer wife, two kids, the dog, the cat, the fish, dust mites and furballs entered stage right.
If you can keep a secret, this is what his Zen Space looked like this morning...after I went shopping for a few clients.
Can we just keep this between us?
This whole "zen space" thingee is one I really like, and that is why I am sharing it with you. We do work together to make sure that that space is not dumped upon. Being greeted by a clean table when I arrive home is a peaceful and pleasant thing.
SO, the next time you come to my house and you have a load of stuff in your arms you need to drop somewhere, follow the lead of my children and walk past that blissfully neat and pristine dining room table surface, beckoning to you just inside the entry, and continue on into the next room: my office.
Yep. You can go ahead and dump it in there.
first photograph compliments of mudmom.com