the universe seems to be listening

you know how once you start thinking about something, it keeps popping up right there before you? that's what's happening with the concept of coworking for me at the moment. i also like the idea of global knowmad. what's interesting is that many of the people speaking in this piece seem to be foreigners who are apparently hanging out in oslo. i wonder what affect it's having on norwegian culture?

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it's a little unlike me to share a body-image link, but somehow this piece spoke to me.

and while i was on huff post,
this piece on being more mindful in the face of technology resonated as well.

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and then there was this on overcoming creative blocks.

i liked this quote:

Real creativity transcends time. If you are not producing work, then chances are you have fallen into the infinite space between the ticks of the clock where reality is created.

universe, are you listening?

what if it was possible to have a place where you could combine all of the things you want to do in your life? a place full of good energy, inspiring surroundings, nurturing, caring people. a creative place, where you could do business, come up with great ideas, learn new things and spend time with people who make you better at what you do and challenge you in a good way. and what if you could get a cup of really good coffee there? what if that place didn't exist, so you had to create it yourself? and what if there just happened to be a charming old train station building, standing empty, just waiting for you to make it awesome?

and what if it needed a whole lot of paint and elbow grease? would you do it? would you, on the theory that writing is the new praying, write it down here for all the world to see and hope that the universe is listening so that all of the pieces would fall into place to make it happen? would you dare to believe and do all that you could yourself to make it happen? even if people thought you were crazy?

can you feel sad and happy at the same time?

how on earth am i going to leave this?

this weekend i spent some time sitting by the fire out in the blue room, as it's come to be known - not to be confused with a bar by the same name in a little middle-of-nowhere town in the upper midwest. i tried to soak it all in. of course, the house has been for sale for awhile and i've known that i will have to part with this room, and in many ways, that's ok. there are things we learned from it and will do differently the next time (more square meters and better lighting). but oh, how i have loved this space - i have literally whispered "i love you room," upon entering on more than one occasion. there's just something so right about it. something that it's hard for me to define. it is at once light and roomy and yet cavelike. that must be the combination of lots of windows on both sides and the dark, rich, turquoise paint i chose. but it also has to do with the creative corner, where i sit, completely surrounded by art supplies - stamps, tape, paint, paper, fabrics, you name it, it's there.

these essential ingredients all come with us. when we go, all that will stay behind are the little wood burning stove and the blue walls. i haven't even decided if i'll leave the linen shades. i was always going to make them longer by adding some fabric to them, but i never got around to it. i've got to check to see if i need them on the windows in the new place (we still haven't heard whether our offer is accepted - there are some challenges (which may or may not involve morse code, telexes and possibly a dog sled team) reaching both parties to the sale).

although i'm sorrowful to leave this space, i am already scheming and planning the new space. i want that end wall that needs to be torn off anyway to incorporate various reclaimed windows, i want a balcony with a little office/computer space that overlooks the big room below, i want more space for books and better shelves for the fabric stash. i want a bigger table that's better for cutting out fabric and patterns and a big wall for laying out quilts. and the colors, just imagining the colors is exciting.  it might not be turquoise this time around. maybe it will be white with purple accents. or green. or a completely different blue. or a hot-blooded magenta. i don't really know. yet. but i think having all of these exciting possibilities is what will get me through the sorrow of leaving this beautiful space behind.

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i've just drastically marked down everything in my etsy shop. i really don't want to have to pack these things up and move them, so do check it out. i'd much rather package them up all pretty and send them to you! there are a few helleristning stones, a couple of pillows, a baby quilt and a scarf. i know winter's almost over, but then you're ready for next fall!  there are a few of the spice line of clarity birds left as well in the big cartel shop, so if you'd like one to fly your way, go there. there will be a new line of clarity birds for summer (after the move). i'm also putting off the art journal course that i mentioned that i was planning until after we're settled into the new place - i had never announced dates anyway so we should be cool there. i just know my time will definitely be limited in the coming couple of months. we've got a LOT of stuff to pack!

09-09-09

the view on my morning run

09-09-09 that feels like an auspicious date. one where one should declare big new dreams, hopes and aspirations. so i've done that. but for now, they're just for me. i'm not ready to say them out loud yet, but as stacey (of discounderworld fame) recently said to me in an email, writing is the new praying, so on this day, why not write something really special? who knows, it just might manifest in the world around you. it's certainly worth a try.

p.s. lest you all think i've gone stark raving mad, running with the D300, it was our little pink sony P&S!!

houses and homes

i wish someone had shown me this picture years ago. because then i might have had some inkling of what i was getting myself into. this is my dear husband at the age of 4-5, building his first house. and today, husband still loves doing this, tho' it's not what he does for a living. it does seem to be in his blood.

we built onto our house last year, as you know if you've been reading MPC for some time. we also built (or at least started) no less than six other structures in the garden, one of which is my beloved blue room/studio/writing house/atelier/dacha. you would think that the relief of having that behind us would make us lean back, relax and just enjoy it. if husband really wants to work on something, there is, after all a half-finished sauna to get on with.

however, his little boy builder's heart and mind have moved on. and he now has it in his head that we need to move to a large old farmhouse. one big enough for more than one family so we can share this big place and thereby reduce our environmental impact on the world. i won't go into all of that right now and we are writing about it over here if you want to know a bit more of what we 're thinking. what i will go on about is house-hunting.

in my mind, this dream is a couple of years away (i'm not quite ready to leave the beautiful room we built-on here, nor am i ready yet to leave behind what i see as the perfect kitchen). but i will admit that after we have looked at two available farm properties in the past two days, i'm thinking that i can move things up in my mind. because your house is not who you are and if you are good at making a home, you can make wherever you live into your home. and it would really be quite nice if where we live had a barn for a couple of horses. and was a bit older and more charming than our current house, which was built in 1968.

neither of the two places we looked at are yet THE place, but looking will help us shape what THE place looks like. interestingly, both of them had an air of sadness over them, tho' for different reasons. both were on about 6-7 acres and were from the early part of the last century.

at the first one, the man who owned it showed us around. he was a sweet, smiling and eager person (probably because the house has been on the market for 374 days) and it was clear that he had loved the house and knew it inside and out. he had lived there since 1967, raised his family there and was finding it too large for his needs. we couldn't exactly determine if his wife was still alive but there was a definite woman's touch around the place - antique dolls and a big beautiful old baby buggy - and a woman's leather jacket hanging in the front entry, still, we weren't sure.

the house had a feel of having been loved and taken care of, but the last updates of carpets, floors and the kitchen had happened back in 1967 when they moved in, bringing their grandparents' furniture. husband is normally very able to look past all of that, but the shock of the ancient furnace (clearly predating their moving in by some 25 years) was a bit difficult to look past. it also had that old smell and i don't mean in a good way, like a used book store smells old. it was the smell of paint that hadn't been refreshed in 40 years. and although it was as clean as could be, it was the smell of dust. an old smell, not musty exactly, just the preserved air of 1967. and it left me a bit sad, tho' the owner wasn't a sad person at all - in fact, he was smiling and upbeat and enthusiastic and clearly loved the house.

today's house was a bit more interesting and closer to what we were looking for, tho' they had added on a very strange, cobbled together addition at some point, clearly without the assistance of an architect and quite possibly using bits and pieces they found at the local dump. and that bit happened to contain a rather new kitchen (which, in my view, would completely have to go, as it was awful beyond belief - the absolutely epitome of bad taste in every aspect). there were, however, two 350m2 barns attached that i could picture myself filling with horses quite easily. the air of sadness in that place was because it was clearly the former home of a family that had disintegrated. the wife had taken the kids and moved out and the husband was still living there, half the pictures gone from the walls, rooms half-empty, save two big-screen televisions. you could tell it was just a house now and no longer a home, if indeed it ever had been a home.

i wonder if all of the places we look at will have some air of sadness about them? it will be interesting to see...in the meantime, i wonder if husband can have the sauna finished in time for blog camp 2.0?