I Grow Best in Small Spaces

It's Monday night, and I have had a date with myself. Nothing spectacular really, but it was a night I committed to being at home, just me. I made my favorite homemade pasta dish that I am starting to call "Pasta al Fiorno", because I basically empty the contents of my spice cabinet into this tiny sauce pan, half a bottle of Frank's Red Hot, throw in some veggies and chicken, a bit of tomato sauce, waa-la! You are guaranteed to drink your FDA required 6-8 glasses of water a day.

But I digress, coming home these days is in many ways like coming home to a loved one. I ponder the events of the day -- from ridiculous meetings I sat through at work, to more ridiculous emails I received and possibly sent, to the thrill of helping my interns find their way through the Wonderland of Advertising, to the fun messages I exchanged between friends, and hopefully the awesome workout I had at the gym to try and shed the last of Europe from my hips and thighs so I can start 32 at the same weight I started 31. Reliving the day is like sharing with a housemate, BUT I am allowed to interrupt myself however many times I wish, and I can play my music as loud as I wish (although I have noticed several windows in the courtyard being slammed shortly after "Paige's Flying Solo Mix" hits the airwaves.)

And when dinner is ready, I call myself in from whatever daydream I am having and we sit down together -- me, myself, and I -- and laugh and peruse the day. And I am so delightfully happy to have these moments to myself, in my tiny apartment (although much better laid out than those past).

My living room is large enough for 5 people to be seated without touching feet. My bedroom has a queen size bed surrounded by 3 walls. My bathroom has a tub that I can sit in upright with my feet touching the other end. My kitchen has cooking space, eating space and writing space. That is all I need.

I fit well into my life here, just like I did on the road. Except on the road, I lived out of a suitcase that was 1 foot by 2.5 feet, and I did that for 3 months. Somehow in that time of living out of a box, I flourished like I never had before. I breathed, I lived, I committed to new plans that were good for me, I cast off old ideas that were holding me down, I exercised my body and mind daily and at the end of the day, I put all my toys back into the small box, closed its lid, and dragged it along behind me.

There was something therapeutic about knowing that all I really needed I had in the small bag sitting at my feet. Unless there was a blizzard in Spain or Italy, I didn't need much more.

Stuff... clutter... its everywhere. Filling up monsterous spaces, muddling our minds into thinking we need more. When in truth we don't... or at least now, I know I don't.

Yesterday I took three more bags of castaways to Goodwill, and I returned feeling a bit lighter than I had before. I don't need all that baggage. I don't need volumes of books I am never going to read again. Or clothes hanging out waiting on a rainy day so I can play dress-up like I was 8. Boardgames for the 'game night' I am never going to have. And the long puffy winter coat that was always too big, but I happily donated PRAYING TO GOD that I would never need to wear it again.

As I have learned throughout my life, clearing out room for the old and dried up, makes room for fresh blooms to blossom. It makes room for me to blossom.

For in this 385 sq foot space, I feel alive and thriving. No space is wasted, all clothing has been worn, all books have been read, and I know exactly what it is I own. I don't have much, but what I have is mine. These things are the things I choose, the things that make me feel like me; and when I feel a new journey on the horizon, these are the things that will fit neatly in my suitcase and roll along behind me.

I don't need much these days. I don't mind 'subletting' another's space. I don't mind eating off of someone else's dishes or sitting on their couch. I don't need to own anything that ties me down, or won't fit in my wheelie bag. Wherever I go, there I am... regardless if I own or rent.

While I might be complaining about my tiny abode if I were 6 foot, the fact is I am not. And I truly am best when spaces are cozy, the view is sunny, and I have time to sit and be, just me, myself and I.