I’m interested in where people work and how they do their
best work, and if they could have a workplace that was tailored perfectly to
their needs and dreams, what would that place look like. To that end, I planned
to make this post solely about my workplace, and essentially, it is.
Especially, I wanted to make the point that in the last several years, I’ve
figured out that beauty in one’s surroundings, and in particular where one
creates, is as important, if not more important, than utility. Even the most austere
studio with bare walls, say, the addition of a table, perhaps a chair, can be
beautiful, depending on the quality of the light or what is brought to the
table, or to dress the floor. Beauty to me happens whenever you walk into a
place, a room, a space, and your heart unfolds. It is where there is a
simultaneous easing of the soul even as the energy to make something happen is
ignited.
My office is a nurturing space. It has everything I need.
There are things I would add, like a big No.
I keep a small pebble on my desk with the word, Yes, engraved on it to counteract all the countless ways and times
I hear no from outside but mainly from inside my own head.
whiteboard and an oversize (preferably
scruffy & antique) worktable, and other things, like the wall-to-wall
carpet and window dressings, I would take away. When I move, which I plan to
do, I’m going to incorporate these changes. I’d like a way to walk outside from
my workplace, too, into a garden, rather than having to go downstairs to go
out. Small things, inconsequential, really. I think what’s important is that
you make this commitment to beauty for yourself, to honor the thing you are
trying to bring forth, whether book, or painting, or child, or tonight’s
dinner, or peace of mind, or what have you. People talk so much today about the
needless consumption of things, and I, too, despair, even to myself, bringing
yet one more item into this house that ends up in a drawer. But I think we need
to take care that in all the paring down and scaling back and trying to use
less, we don’t whittle away our desire even our need for beauty. In order to
flourish, I think, our self-expression requires that we honor and respect it.
Otherwise, it leaves. That spontaneity, that joyful abandon caves to worry, to
guilt, to the punishment of the word,
When you think about it, all of this window dressing, if you
will, the garb of our desire, our will to create, is inextricably woven in with
the work itself. In fact, the work itself very often produces a thing that is
then offered for consumption. And it’s this that got me thinking when I set out
to write this post about where I create, because something that has occurred to
me recently, is that perhaps the key to all of this lies in whether or not we
can ever actually find our work, that thing we should do, the one occupation
that will bring to life our greatest joy and delight. I know a lot of folks
will say that even if they knew their right and true work, it’s impossible to
do it, they have bills to pay, kids to feed, etc. And I’m not saying it’s easy.
It certainly wasn’t for me, plus it was and still is, at times, scary. But what’s
intriguing is to imagine that you could, to imagine a world where everyone was
employed in a way that awakened their joy. Somehow, I can’t believe we would
then have a problem with conspicuous consumption or its dark companion, the
sense of entitlement. Or greed to put it in its most basic term.
I don’t know why for some of us, finding our life’s work
is so arduous and alarming and painful. But I did read an absolutely riveting
book just recently,
THE GREAT WORK OF YOUR LIFE, by Stephen
Cope, in which I learned that the likes of Jane
Goodall, Susan B. Anthony, John Keats and Ludwig Von Beethoven also struggled
to find the way to do the one thing that made their heart sing. It wasn’t easy
for them either. They were surrounded by lack, by naysayers; they were heckled
and humiliated. They were ranted at by the devils in their own heads and
riddled with doubt. But they kept on and look, just look, at the gifts the
world continues to receive because of their persistence! I don’t think that
finding and doing one’s life work is necessarily joyful every moment. In my own
experience the opposite is true. I don’t think it’s glamorous or necessarily lucrative,
but somehow, if you can find that purpose and the internal grit to stick with
it, the rewards, while not conventional in the sense we’ve been educated to
expect, are enormous. Maybe I knew all this, but regardless, it is abundantly
clear from Stephen Cope’s book and the examples of the lives of the people he
writes about that struggle is part of the equation, a big part, maybe the major
part.
I was so inspired, even spellbound, while reading The
Great Work of Your Life. I wrote in the margins, underlined passages, made
notes on every blank page. And I realized I couldn’t write today about my work
space without mentioning it, because the place where I work is so tied to the
process, and because it took me such a long time to come by the courage to cast
caution aside and to pursue my heart’s desire, regardless of how foolish it
seemed or continues to seem. And I’m finding that simply by taking the first
tiny and tentative steps, honoring this impulse, nurturing it, surrounding it
with my interpretation of beauty, that it’s true what Joseph Campbell said, “Follow
your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls.”
If you are the least inclined to explore the mystery of
this process yourself, if you wonder how it can be done, I highly recommend
Stephen Cope’s book. The stories he relates are fascinating, and the clarity
and beauty of the message, and the way it’s rendered with such love and
compassion, and practicality, is as lovely as it is compelling. The book is a
gift, and I’m happy I can share its existence with anyone who cares to know.
