December 19, 2011
Of late, I have a favorite spot to sit in my house, in my lounge room, on a small red couch under a simple lamp with a bendy neck, beside a low table where I might rest a cup or place a book. Many elderly people have a similar favorite spot, according to my friend who visits them at work. And now remembering that mum has such a thing too.
So I wonder why I didn’t catch on to this idea earlier, because it’s a brilliant idea.
Sitting in this spot, I’m comfortable, well appointed to view the garden and the street beyond, or to simply read or write or play sudoku. It feels familiar now, so even my meditation practice comes easily here. Perhaps it has good Feng shui.
I’ve been watching Upstairs Downstairs and Wuthering Heights on the telly. Perhaps I’ve been bewitched by mild mannered women with needlework in their laps. Maybe I need a wild run on the moors instead? Or at least more regular walks with Jordi, because the danger of a favorite spot is the effort it takes to move from it. And now I must go to sleep – in my bed.