When is it time to let go?
On creating space.
It all started when I walked into my apartment after three-plus weeks in Italy and London. With one exception (London), I’d stayed in fabulous short-term rentals over the course of my travels. I found them to be airy and spacious and perfectly appointed. Just the right amount of everything… dishes, cutlery, towels, furniture, which I’d noted.
When I arrived home that Friday evening, I was immediately hit with felt like heaviness, not emotional heaviness, but heaviness in furnishings, in my living room, in the space. And I immediately thought that something needs to change.
Deciding what needs to change (and maybe go).
I didn’t know what. To be clear, I don’t have “too much stuff.” It’s not like every inch of my living room is packed with tables and chairs and tchotchkes. So, I was unclear how I could make a change short of buying new furniture, which wasn’t on the financial priority list.
I mentioned my dilemma to a trusted friend and she suggested that I try moving some things around. I took her advice to heart and thought about what that might be. I liked how my living room was laid out, so that wasn’t an option. Then I thought about my photos and artwork. That had possibilities, as anyone who’s been on Zoom with me multiple times over the years and seen the same photo of the Lucille Ball redhead with the mauve kerchief on her head could attest to. So I started there.
I moved two pieces of art from above a black pleather bench in my living room to the wall behind my desk and took the photos from my forever Zoom wall and put them in the living room with some other minor shifts. Now there are two photos framed in white on the wall above the black bench. And a black framed sculpture sitting beside it on the floor. “Lucille Ball” is also on the floor on the other side of the television.
These small changes started to Iighten things up, but not completely. Something was still off and I realized it was the west-facing wall that, oddly, has the three living room windows. The only meaningful change I could make to further open up the space would be to remove the teak barrel chair with the latticework seat that sat in the right corner next to the air conditioner. And since there was nowhere else it could go, it meant giving it away.
Being okay with being uncomfortable.
There was some hesitancy in letting that chair go. I’d had it for awhile. And if I was going to give it away (rather that simply putting it in the trash), I needed to repair it. I needed to glue the curved wood back back together.
I’d done this before, so I thought I could get it to work again. As luck would have it, I’d found the wood glue I thought was long gone while looking for nails for my artwork rearrangement project a couple of weeks before. It was in the lower level of the pink toolbox my father purchased for me years ago. I managed to insert the glue in the tight space that had opened up and got it to stay together with string, further holding everything in place so the glue could dry by nudging it up against the wall.
Once I knew the fix was set, I moved the chair to the the other end of the living room near the door, not yet ready to fully commit to it leaving the apartment. The wall by the windows definitely felt emptier and less substantial. It felt unanchored. I moved a small stone-topped table with my audio speaker from the center to the corner where the chair had been. That helped a bit. But it still felt empty, really empty.
I sat with this discomfort, resisting the urge to put the chair back or to fill it with something else. I sat with the discomfort of the empty space. And a couple of days later I decided the chair could go. I brought it downstairs and put it in the mail area in the lobby — temporary home to all things in transit from one apartment to another. By the time I got back from my walk, the chair was gone.
Then I noticed something else in the lobby. During the winter months, the open space behind the wall of windows is filled with plants of all sizes and shapes (more than in the spring and summer), some sitting on the floor, others on stools. I figured they were the winter home for apartments on the backside of the building fortunate enough to have outdoor space.
And it gave me an idea. Maybe what the corner needed was a good-sized plant sitting on a tasteful stool. I could move the stone-topped table back to the center of the wall, which had felt lacking (and also unanchored) and fill the corner with a living-breathing thing. Having accidentally killed more plants than not, my home was lacking in greenery.
I found streamlined, functional stools on Ikea.com, and, after a vague attempt to visit the local flower and plant shop, I found a plant I thought could work on PlantShed.com — an Aglaonema Silver Bay — Level of Care… 1 (aka “Easy!”). And it purifies the air.
The NASA Clean Air Study has ranked Aglaonema as one of the most efficient houseplants that remove formaldehyde and benzene from the air we breathe.
So I purchased it along with a Blue Egg ceramic pot (more anchoring). I assembled the stool, unwrapped the potted Aglaomena, and thus far have kept it alive… it’s been just over a week.
Now the wall is anchored again, but in a more spacious way. And it feels like the energy in the room flows better.
And I took another step. I unboxed the Flamingo Estate Coriandoli Candle I’d received as a Christmas gift (you know who you are, thank you). “Coriandoli” is Italian for “confetti,” and Flamingo Estate chose the name because the scent floats through the air like confetti… heaven. The Corandioli Candle:
Smells like a good time with White Christmas Lilies, the sweetness of empty Champagne glasses, cigarette smoke, Santal, and Musk.
Letting go. Giving the right things the chance to emerge. There is space in my space.
3 ideas from 10 Percent Happier with Dan Harris.
Last week, I listened to the 10 Percent Happier with Dan Harris podcast. And this episode was a goldmine… “You Should Be Taking More Risks. Here’s How To Get Over Your Fear And Do It. | Sue Ashford.”
Here are the three ideas I left with:
Everything is a test — if you’ve been reading this email for awhile, you know this is one of my core tenets when it comes to trying new things in your business. Sue Ashford applied the approach to trying out new behaviors, new ways of being, and new ways to approach inter-relational interactions, at work and at home. The key to this working — be willing to risk doing something that may not work.
Feedback vs Advice — when you’re looking for input from someone, rather than setting up a time to ask for feedback, arrange a time to speak to get their advice. Feedback can tend toward the negative, while people generally lean towards the positive when giving advice. This helps remove the sting that can come with feedback and may lead you to see possibilities that you hadn’t previously.
Re-storying — everything we tell ourselves, or our thoughts automatically cook up and tell us, is a story. We don’t realize it because we’re hardwired to think a certain way and we’re steeped in our beliefs. We make assumptions about what’s happening when we interact with others based on this. But can you know for sure that the story you automatically tell yourself true? Is it possible to tell yourself another story about what’s happening (the off-handed comment, the facial response, etc.) that might be equally true, and even if it’s not, makes you feel better and gives you more agency? This is a game-changer.
Until next time.
Katherine
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