I have returned. My most important souvenir from my travels—a sense of space. Empty. Clean. Uncluttered. I recommend it. I continue to desire it.
Upon our return from the ocean, we immediately began a home improvement project. All the furniture from our bedrooms, closets and my studio were moved into the dining room, eventually expanding into the foyer, living room, and then garage. My husband commented that our home looked like an episode of Hoarders. He was right.
When the time came to move the furniture and our belongings back to their original settings, I hesitated. One bed, one table, one chair seemed sufficient . . . perfect . . . peaceful. Not all agreed, and I knew such a sparse design was not logical; however, the next day I learned how lovely it could be. A friend stopped by, briefly announced, offering a book we had discussed. Instantly my apology for the current state of our home arose but was followed as quickly with an impromptu invitation to tea—to be conducted in my studio, sans its many furnishings and supplies. So with the gathering of two chairs, a small table, iced tea and the gifted book, our tea time commenced. We talked, we hypothesized-- we shared space, light, and laughter. The studio did not seem empty at all.
Empty space, that space between- it is often described as bare, blank, vacant, hollow, and void; but I do not find it so. Even some scientists postulate theories that propose a similar view. Maybe there is some truth in our assumptions-- our current knowledge only limited, our perceptions temporarily dimmed.