Here's the thing about our houses, they hold us. They hold us up, they hold us accountable.
They hold us back from being who we are not and back from the world we might need space from. Moving out of one space and onto another, for me, is always joy-filled. I had been looking for a little mountain house for years when this unassuming old gent stopped me in the street and said 'hello'. Homes will do that. They know who/what they want and they tend to get it.
This miners shack, with all its nuts and bolts tightened, foundation established, colors carefully chosen, mood made, and art hung, has done more than make space for me. It's made space for my people. If we can imagine the love, the make outs, the meditations, the meals, and the dreaming, we would see a whole world in this small and sturdy structure. Built in the late 1800s and still standing proudly, I think old homes cared for well are training for what really matters in life. Caring for old and new relationships as if they too could use our care. They do. We do.
When it comes to homes and how we adorn and support them, it's smart to remember that all the attention we give to our places is practice. We have heard the old adage, how we do one thing is how we do all things. I concur. So when it comes to caring for our people, holding them in adoration, encouraging them, seeing them, it's these spaces we care for ourselves in that really shore us up to care for those we love. This home has beautifully witnessed so many of us grow over the last decade (and a dozen decades of life before that).
May we all be so lucky to have a few kind friends, a desire to live free, and a space to hold it all down. And up.
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