The Beauty in the Mundane

Finn sent me a link to a book he’s reading, something about creating rituals in your life to make everyday tasks meaningful.  I have to admit I didn’t delve into the link, but that’s because it sparked a realization for me that that’s exactly what I’m already doing—how I started living my life in this house. (I wanted to be aware of my actions and intentions before I added to them with the ideas of his book—at least that’s what I’m telling myself. In truth, I really don’t enjoy reading non-fiction self-help books, even when my kid suggests them.)

Back to this idea, though. My guess is the book talks about how rituals infuse everyday tasks with meaning, with importance. They turn the mundane into beauty, or I should say they reveal the beauty inside the mundane. I’m guessing that’s what the book says; if not, then apparently I’m writing that book myself right now.  Because here’s how I make my life beautiful through ritual in my new house.

Upstairs Rituals

Several friends have told me I’m going to eventually hate having two floors to my house, that the stairs will become tedious. I will stop going upstairs and start living downstairs only. This may be true. Right now, though, I couldn’t love my two stories more. To me, it’s not about more storage space (what do I have to store?), it’s about having two distinct worlds to myself. I used to have the entire world to myself, or so it felt when we were boondocking, but now I have an upstairs and a downstairs. 

The ritual of opening the curtains

Each morning, I pull back the curtains in my bedroom and look out at the day. Literally. What’s the weather like? How are my neighbors doing? Who’s walking down the sidewalk? Hello, day! It’s such a much nicer day than the world inside my phone, which is what I was looking at in bed. 

Back in the trailer, there wasn’t such a distinction between inside and outside; the outside was coming in whether we wanted it to or not, what with the broken blinds and all the skylights. Mostly that was a wonderful thing, but here I’m learning that saying hello to the world on my own terms is wonderful, too.

The ritual of my workout room

I’ve strung Christmas lights in both non-bedroom rooms upstairs, in part because the rooms are so dark on their own, so the lights bring in beauty, even if it’s wacky beauty. 

I’ve hung a shower curtain in the guest room where there is no closet door, but it’s not your ordinary shower curtain—it’s what I bought when I broke the Airstream shower door (the first time) in Yukon, and my Airstreaming friend Sherri hemmed it with her sewing machine in her she-shed outside her Airstream in Tennessee.  I remember standing beside her as she sewed pennies into the hem so the curtain would stay sorta in place in the trailer. I was so grateful. I love using that stupid shower curtain when I open and close the closet door. See, the ritual of opening curtains still hasn’t left me.

Everything else about doing yoga is a ritual, too, of course. Lighting the little candle holder in the shape of a hand that Paul gave me and has held a lit candle throughout my yoga practice for 20 years. 

Lifting the other doodads from the cardboard box I use as a table in there (we’re still quite short on furniture). I cover that table with the cookie plate crumb catcher made and given to me by Tracy’s best friend’s mother. We laughed together as I practiced saying “cookie plate crumb catcher” over and over so I would remember such a thing. (Thank you, Mrs. Meeter!)

The ritual of office work 

Then there’s the upstairs kitchen that I use as my “office”—said in quotes because I don’t think you can call what I do on my computer, “work.” Heck, it’s not even a computer, now, it’s an iPad. But I’m calling it an office, that is until we need to turn it back into a kitchen during the renovation.

I found a whiteboard in the basement and figured out that it’s magnetic, and we had magnets left over from the magnetic board we had taped to the Airstream fridge, so, voilà, I now have a magnetboard above my desk, a desk I bought for $35 at Restore. And, I have my bird feeder Finn game me for Christmas at the window by my desk, and my binoculars (Tracy’s hand-me-downs). 

The binoculars make my desk a center of operations upstairs for me to watch the goings-on down in the back yard. I check on the tiny water fountain in the tiny pond to see if it’s working, and, if it is, to make sure the water is aiming back in the pond. I watch the house sparrows try to fit in the birdhouse Tracy made too small for them, and I spy on the rabbits eating the tops of the bulbs. Soon, the weather will be warm enough for me to spend mornings out there, but I’m guessing I have at least another month up in my center of operations, so I’m enjoying doing my yard-spying from here.

I’ve got my knitting stuff up here, and my boxes of photos for multiple photo-based projects I’m working on, plus my news app and my emails to friends. It’s really quite a wonderful place to while away the morning.

The ritual of dressing

In the bedroom, wait, I now have a bedroom! And a mirror! According to the mirror, I now have a look! That’s thanks to new (to me) clothes. I didn’t have anything but hiking clothes, before, so I’ve been hitting up the thrift shops in a heavy way. On a “free stuff in Madison” group on Facebook, I found a lady nearby who is my size, my style, practically giving her stuff away, and I went hog wild. I now own clothes, clothes that I like. That itself is a mind-blowing thing. 

I also bought a jewelry box at an estate sale, and it’s taken me seven months to realize I can arrange jewelry in there easily: earrings up top (I go in vertical order, head-to-toe), then necklaces, then bracelets and watch bands. Okay, so most of my jewelry is bone and antler stuff I bought on the road, but now that I have it arranged so I can look at it when I get dressed, it sure is a lot of jewelry to me! It’s quite amazing to see what I look like to other people and to be able to affect that look by tucking in a shirt or rolling up a cuff. Clothes are amazing. 

I can make my lovely bed, now! In the Airstream it was a feat to just pile all the blankets and pillows back on the bed in seeming order, but now I can walk around each side, pulling so everything’s in actual order, fluffing up the comforter from the foot so it doesn’t bunch up down there. My mom loved a beautifully made bed. She used to tell me that it made getting in bed at night so inviting, when the bed itself is lovely to look at. Making my bed each day is a promise to myself later that night that I will love getting back in that clean, fresh-smelling bed for another night of sleep. This is revolutionary to me, in many ways.

By now it’s 10 am, and I haven’t even left the upstairs. I have an entire other floor waiting for me downstairs! I like to think of upstairs as the private space and downstairs as the public space, even though I haven’t really had any guests down there or anything truly private I need to keep upstairs. But, the idea is lovely, that I have room for privacy if I want that. In my last abode, you could see another person (even if that person was Tracy) simply by opening your eyes. 

Downstairs Rituals

I’ll combine these, seeing as how this post is getting long. 

There’s the ritual of watering plants and watching them grow and change. Beautiful! 

The ritual of taking a hot shower when I want to, with room for various types of shampoo and conditioner and soap, all there at my fingertips. No more digging through bins or biking to the shower and biking back with wet hair. It’s all there! 

I even enjoy a ritual of cleaning, now. I have delegated certain tasks for certain days, which sounds mind-numbingly boring but is a joy. I do those things only on days when I want to, which means they are choices. Look, I get to wash these lovely old floors I now own! I bought one of those dusting wands, and now I walk around like a fairy godmother, granting cleanliness to all the lovely things under my domain. 

I even enjoy washing dishes. I bought a dish-drying rack (because I have room for one now!) with a spout to funnel the excess water back to the sink. I like to watch that happen, kind of like a Shelly-powered fountain in my kitchen. I have fountains left and right, now. 

Don’t get me started on the joys of my washing machine with its glass top, where I wan watch the washing magic happen. No quarters, no crazy laundromat people, just my new clothes getting clean. 

With all of the changes I’ve undergone in the last few months, making rituals of my days has helped me embrace what I have been faced with. My small world is upside down, and the larger world is turning inside out. But, I do my best to open my curtains every day with fresh eyes. I am trying to stay amazed.