There are a million books and theories and thoughts these days about how THINGS just clutter up your life and make you crazy. Well, I'm here to disagree. Tonight I organized (sort of) and decorated my office and I was reminded of how much I love my stuff. Someone asked me what the style of my new house is and I said, "cluttery eclectic." YES! Its cluttery because I love walking into a house that is full of interesting things to look at. If you have ever been to my aunt Sheri's house, you know what I mean.
There is a huge difference between walking into a cluttered house and walking into a house that tells a story. If you come to my house, I can probably tell you a story about almost everything I own. For example, let me take you on a tour of my office. To my right is a collage that I made one afternoon with my sister-in-law Julie and my niece Ellie...two humans who I love beyond words. To my left is a collage my mom made me. There is a photo of me as a baby with my dad and a photo of me with my mom. Then my mom photocopied the journal she kept after I was born, so I have her words in her own handwriting to look at. I have a drawing that Ellie did of me with my eyes closed and flowers in my hair. No words. Means the world. I have a beautifully stitched state of Wisconsin made by one of my favorite artists, Lindy Adams. I made my desk. I have a cabinet that was free and needed love. It was moved into my house for painting by my aunt and uncle and me because it was so damn heavy. I have a shelf full of books that i feel sort of define me. The shelf was made by Ryan...an amazing furniture builder in Johannesburg. He also built Jack's first crib. I have a card in a frame from my sweet friend Holly. I have the words from a song that my mom said reminds her of her kids. I have a framed painting of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, Italy...one of my favorite places ever. I have a small, white, goofy looking Buddha that I bought myself when I was in Beijing for work. He represents a time in my life that I remember feeling so strong and independent. There are a couple things I made myself. A wood sign that Ben made that just says "JOY." There is a picture of me dancing with my grandpa at my wedding...I asked him to wear a tux and he looked so handsome and there is no one I would rather have been dancing with. I have a beautiful wood carving of a ballerina that my Grandpa Doerfler made for me. There is a photo of my friend JR and me...on roller-skates...in the snow...when we were five years old. There is a photo of my sissy and me. I could go on and on. So what in that group doesn't matter? It all matters and its ok to keep things. Its ok for THINGS to matter.
I think there is a certain amount of pressure on us to "tidy up" and be perfectly organized in our own homes. To make sure that photos match. Frames match. Pillows match. I like the idea of telling a story with what you own. Make your house a reflection of your travels, your family life, what and who you love the most. Instead of buying things to fill space, leave the space open until you find the thing that reflects something personal about you. Or wait until you find the thing that is just interesting. It doesn't have to match perfectly. It matches because you like it. Anyone can make a house look like a catalog, but only you can write the tale of what makes your space all yours.
There is a huge difference between walking into a cluttered house and walking into a house that tells a story. If you come to my house, I can probably tell you a story about almost everything I own. For example, let me take you on a tour of my office. To my right is a collage that I made one afternoon with my sister-in-law Julie and my niece Ellie...two humans who I love beyond words. To my left is a collage my mom made me. There is a photo of me as a baby with my dad and a photo of me with my mom. Then my mom photocopied the journal she kept after I was born, so I have her words in her own handwriting to look at. I have a drawing that Ellie did of me with my eyes closed and flowers in my hair. No words. Means the world. I have a beautifully stitched state of Wisconsin made by one of my favorite artists, Lindy Adams. I made my desk. I have a cabinet that was free and needed love. It was moved into my house for painting by my aunt and uncle and me because it was so damn heavy. I have a shelf full of books that i feel sort of define me. The shelf was made by Ryan...an amazing furniture builder in Johannesburg. He also built Jack's first crib. I have a card in a frame from my sweet friend Holly. I have the words from a song that my mom said reminds her of her kids. I have a framed painting of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, Italy...one of my favorite places ever. I have a small, white, goofy looking Buddha that I bought myself when I was in Beijing for work. He represents a time in my life that I remember feeling so strong and independent. There are a couple things I made myself. A wood sign that Ben made that just says "JOY." There is a picture of me dancing with my grandpa at my wedding...I asked him to wear a tux and he looked so handsome and there is no one I would rather have been dancing with. I have a beautiful wood carving of a ballerina that my Grandpa Doerfler made for me. There is a photo of my friend JR and me...on roller-skates...in the snow...when we were five years old. There is a photo of my sissy and me. I could go on and on. So what in that group doesn't matter? It all matters and its ok to keep things. Its ok for THINGS to matter.
I think there is a certain amount of pressure on us to "tidy up" and be perfectly organized in our own homes. To make sure that photos match. Frames match. Pillows match. I like the idea of telling a story with what you own. Make your house a reflection of your travels, your family life, what and who you love the most. Instead of buying things to fill space, leave the space open until you find the thing that reflects something personal about you. Or wait until you find the thing that is just interesting. It doesn't have to match perfectly. It matches because you like it. Anyone can make a house look like a catalog, but only you can write the tale of what makes your space all yours.
This is not puggsy altho she was our beloved deceased cat. This is Wanda, Jesse, you made my day. What an insightful person you are. I don't know how long our lives will be intermingled but I will always remember what you said...and how well you said iit. God's blessing on you and your children. Wanda O.
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