Warning: Before you go clicking away on the links in this post, keep in mind that you may be offended or disturbed by the content of many of these postcards, especially if you are my mother.
Are any of you familiar with PostSecret? Frank Warren started this community art project in 2004, inviting every single human to make a 4 x 6 postcard, write a secret on it that they have never shared, and mail it to him in Germantown, Maryland. Warren selects different cards each week for the PostSecret website, and then every year or two, a new book of postcards is published. He also tours the country displaying and speaking about the cards he has received.
I had never heard of PostSecret until recently, when I stumbled upon one of the books at the library. My experience reading through the secrets in that book, and some more on the website, was distinctly uninspiring. It was a lot like being alone with a bag of potato chips or a box of See's chocolates. Just one more, just one more, just one more. In the end you feel sick. The secrets were not particularly nourishing (maybe the opposite, in fact), but it was hard to stop looking at them. So I was surprised to read that Frank Warren sees this public, anonymous secret-sharing as uplifting and helpful to both the sharer and the audience. Warren says that it is good for people to read others' darkest secrets, and to realize they are not alone.
So I'm trying to reconsider my initial reaction to the secrets. What secret would I write on such a postcard? Would this activity be helpful to me in some way? How is it helpful for other people to read these secrets? I wonder if sharing a secret in this way is a bit like offering a prayer, especially for someone who may not believe in or pray to a god. I keep a few secrets from people, but not from God. Maybe believing in someone who already knows everything about me diminishes my need to share these things with the world on a postcard. Or perhaps because I have such a great therapist, who I can share things with that I wouldn't tell normal people, I am already taking advantage of one of the main benefits of the postsecret project--getting the darn thing off your chest.
Now, if I think of these postsecrets from the perspective of a future psychologist, they become a bit more interesting. Many of these secrets are things so shameful to the person hiding them, she has never dared share them with anyone else. As a study in what humans are most ashamed of, what a rich resource. I wonder if any psychology students have asked to use Warren's collection for dissertation research? Hmm...
Friday, April 29, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Read the comments for the Limitless post
The comments for my most recent post on the movie Limitless are particularly fascinating, and expand the post into so much more than what I originally wrote. Even if you don't usually read comments, please do yourself a favor and read these. Thank you so much to Suzanne, LL, Aunt Elaine, and Jacqueline/ Lybi for writing.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Limitless
Warning: This post is one big, gigantic spoiler.
Dan and I went to see Limitless Friday night. The premise of the movie (based on The Dark Fields by Alan Glynn, which I have not yet read) is that a pill has been developed which allows you to access the entirety of your brain (as opposed to the 20% that we currently use). Within 30 seconds of swallowing, you have a 4-digit IQ.
The main character is given one pill by a friend of his to help him overcome his writer's block. Prior to taking the pill, he is depressed. His hair is long and scraggly, his personal hygiene sketchy at best. He can't get himself to write even one sentence of the book his publisher has given him an advance for. He spends a great deal of time drinking. His girlfriend has just broken up with him, presumably because he is such a loser. Figuring he has nothing more to lose, our hero swallows the mysterious pill. Within moments his eyes light up. His countenance changes. He heads home to work on his manuscript. When he enters his apartment, he is able to see, for the first time, what a mess it is. The first thing he does with his increased brain power is wash the dishes. Once his entire apartment is clean and orderly, he sits down and writes. He is in the zone, writing all day, and finishing a large chunk of the book he has been unable to work on for months. He feels amazing.
The next morning, when he wakes up, he is back to his same old self--depressed and dull. He wants to feel alive, energized, and powerful again, so he gets himself a much bigger supply of the pills and starts taking them every day. On the pill, with his brain operating at full capacity, he bathes, gets a haircut, starts exercising. He finishes his book in four days. He impresses people with his fascinating insights into basically everything, and makes lots of new friends. Women can't resist him. He gets back together with his girlfriend, who is intimidated by him for the first time in her life. He finds no need to drink alcohol any more.
He is able to recall, in perfect detail, everything he has ever seen, such as television programs, covers of books, etc. For instance, he beats up a big group of thugs based on what his brain has learned watching random commercials and martial arts movies. He becomes fluent in new languages by casually listening to a few tapes. His senses are heightened. He sees connections between things and pathways open up that were not visible to him before.
I take a small handful of pills every night before bed that help with my depression. Dan and I like to joke that they are my happy pills, and I pretend to be overcome by happiness and joy right after taking them. They do not really function in this way of course, but I do think they help take the edge off of the worst of my symptoms. More than an antidepressant, however, the pills in this movie reminded me of the influence of God in our lives.
Here is a quote Dan found for me by Parley P. Pratt that I think is relevant to the discussion:
"The gift of the Holy Spirit...quickens all the intellectual faculties, increases, enlarges, expands and purifies all the natural passions and affections, and adapts them, by the gift of wisdom, to their lawful use. It inspires, develops, cultivates and matures all the fine toned sympathies, joys, tastes, kindred feelings and affections of our nature. It inspires virtue, kindness, goodness, tenderness, gentleness and charity. It develops beauty of person, form and features. It tends to health, vigor, animation and social feeling. It develops and invigorates all the faculties of the physical and intellectual man. It strengthens, invigorates and gives tone to the nerves. In short, it is, as it were, marrow to the bone, joy to the heart, light to the eyes, music to the ears, and life to the whole being."
And another, this one by Ezra Taft Benson:
"Yes, men and women who turn their lives over to God will find out that he can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace."
I remember when I first heard that we are not using about 80% of our brain's capacity, I assumed that potential would be unlocked in the eternities. God, I imagine, is already operating at full capacity. Perhaps his spirit helps us access regions of our brain that we cannot yet access by ourselves.
How do you imagine that you would be different if you had access to your entire brain's capacity? Would your emotional state improve? Would you stop procrastinating? Would you wash the dishes and keep your house cleaner? I don't know if having 100% brain power would be enough to overcome certain negative habits that plague me. It seems like I already know many of the things I need to do, and what is missing is the part where I actually do those things. Does that part come from our brains? From our bodies? From our spirit?
Lots to think about, and I'd love to hear from you as well.
Dan and I went to see Limitless Friday night. The premise of the movie (based on The Dark Fields by Alan Glynn, which I have not yet read) is that a pill has been developed which allows you to access the entirety of your brain (as opposed to the 20% that we currently use). Within 30 seconds of swallowing, you have a 4-digit IQ.
The main character is given one pill by a friend of his to help him overcome his writer's block. Prior to taking the pill, he is depressed. His hair is long and scraggly, his personal hygiene sketchy at best. He can't get himself to write even one sentence of the book his publisher has given him an advance for. He spends a great deal of time drinking. His girlfriend has just broken up with him, presumably because he is such a loser. Figuring he has nothing more to lose, our hero swallows the mysterious pill. Within moments his eyes light up. His countenance changes. He heads home to work on his manuscript. When he enters his apartment, he is able to see, for the first time, what a mess it is. The first thing he does with his increased brain power is wash the dishes. Once his entire apartment is clean and orderly, he sits down and writes. He is in the zone, writing all day, and finishing a large chunk of the book he has been unable to work on for months. He feels amazing.
The next morning, when he wakes up, he is back to his same old self--depressed and dull. He wants to feel alive, energized, and powerful again, so he gets himself a much bigger supply of the pills and starts taking them every day. On the pill, with his brain operating at full capacity, he bathes, gets a haircut, starts exercising. He finishes his book in four days. He impresses people with his fascinating insights into basically everything, and makes lots of new friends. Women can't resist him. He gets back together with his girlfriend, who is intimidated by him for the first time in her life. He finds no need to drink alcohol any more.
He is able to recall, in perfect detail, everything he has ever seen, such as television programs, covers of books, etc. For instance, he beats up a big group of thugs based on what his brain has learned watching random commercials and martial arts movies. He becomes fluent in new languages by casually listening to a few tapes. His senses are heightened. He sees connections between things and pathways open up that were not visible to him before.
I take a small handful of pills every night before bed that help with my depression. Dan and I like to joke that they are my happy pills, and I pretend to be overcome by happiness and joy right after taking them. They do not really function in this way of course, but I do think they help take the edge off of the worst of my symptoms. More than an antidepressant, however, the pills in this movie reminded me of the influence of God in our lives.
Here is a quote Dan found for me by Parley P. Pratt that I think is relevant to the discussion:
"The gift of the Holy Spirit...quickens all the intellectual faculties, increases, enlarges, expands and purifies all the natural passions and affections, and adapts them, by the gift of wisdom, to their lawful use. It inspires, develops, cultivates and matures all the fine toned sympathies, joys, tastes, kindred feelings and affections of our nature. It inspires virtue, kindness, goodness, tenderness, gentleness and charity. It develops beauty of person, form and features. It tends to health, vigor, animation and social feeling. It develops and invigorates all the faculties of the physical and intellectual man. It strengthens, invigorates and gives tone to the nerves. In short, it is, as it were, marrow to the bone, joy to the heart, light to the eyes, music to the ears, and life to the whole being."
And another, this one by Ezra Taft Benson:
"Yes, men and women who turn their lives over to God will find out that he can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace."
I remember when I first heard that we are not using about 80% of our brain's capacity, I assumed that potential would be unlocked in the eternities. God, I imagine, is already operating at full capacity. Perhaps his spirit helps us access regions of our brain that we cannot yet access by ourselves.
How do you imagine that you would be different if you had access to your entire brain's capacity? Would your emotional state improve? Would you stop procrastinating? Would you wash the dishes and keep your house cleaner? I don't know if having 100% brain power would be enough to overcome certain negative habits that plague me. It seems like I already know many of the things I need to do, and what is missing is the part where I actually do those things. Does that part come from our brains? From our bodies? From our spirit?
Lots to think about, and I'd love to hear from you as well.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Group of Seven Fan Club
Once upon a time, I was searching art.com for beautiful artwork. I was looking specifically for trees, but the search turned up a lot of landscapes as well. In addition to some amazing things by Van Gogh, Klimt, and other famous artists (famous enough that I had heard of them), I found a number of paintings that I really liked by artists I'd never heard of. In particular, I found three different images of an evergreen that almost looked like they could be the same tree. In order to further my art education, I try to look up artists whose work I like and read more about them. When I did a search for the artists who painted the three similar trees, I read in a Wikipedia article that they worked together, and were part of a group of Canadian landscape painters active in the 1920s called the Group of Seven. I wrote down the names of all the artists in the group (there were actually 10 by the end) and went back to art.com to find paintings by each of them. Guess what? I liked everything I saw by them. Hey, my new favorite painters!
In a fit of admiration, I put a bunch of their stuff on my wall on Facebook, and I wrote about them in a gratitude email to my family. Not long after that, I received a book in the mail all about the Group of Seven, a special gift from my sister. As I was reading the book I thought, some day I want to take a road trip to northern Ontario (it borders Michigan, after all) and see the places these guys painted, and their original artwork in the various museums.
Fast forward to about a week ago, when I started searching for art on etsy.com. I found a landscape that looked very similar to some of the things I'd seen by the Group of Seven. When I looked at the information on the artist, I saw that he lives in northern Ontario. I ended up purchasing something from him, and he sent me an email. I responded with a question: Are you familiar with the work of the Group of Seven? Your things remind me of theirs.
The artist, Brian Holden, wrote me back this great message:
"In answer to your question about being familiar with the Group of Seven...indeed I am. It would be a disservice to both them and yourself to say I have not been influenced by their vision and ways of looking at landscape. I grew up as a child in the immediate area on Lake Superior made famous by Lawren Harris (Pic Island) and also depicted to a lesser degree by Franklin Carmichael and A.Y. Jackson.
"I would have to say my first visit to the McMichael Gallery in Toronto was where I really developed a sense of connection to their landscapes and perhaps subconsciously now these influences and color palettes emerge to some greater or lesser degree in my own work.
"The group visited Algoma region around Sault Ste. Marie more so as a collective, but as individuals several ventured a little more west along Superior towards Thunder Bay, Lawren Harris in particular to the area I grew up and know so well in my life.
"I have a bit of knowledge on the group and can also recommend places to view works and also spots where they actually painted if you are interested."
This email made my day! We exchanged a few more messages, and in the end he gave me a great list of places to visit. One of these days (hopefully this fall), I'm going to hit the road, a bona fide member of the Group of Seven fan club.
In a fit of admiration, I put a bunch of their stuff on my wall on Facebook, and I wrote about them in a gratitude email to my family. Not long after that, I received a book in the mail all about the Group of Seven, a special gift from my sister. As I was reading the book I thought, some day I want to take a road trip to northern Ontario (it borders Michigan, after all) and see the places these guys painted, and their original artwork in the various museums.
Fast forward to about a week ago, when I started searching for art on etsy.com. I found a landscape that looked very similar to some of the things I'd seen by the Group of Seven. When I looked at the information on the artist, I saw that he lives in northern Ontario. I ended up purchasing something from him, and he sent me an email. I responded with a question: Are you familiar with the work of the Group of Seven? Your things remind me of theirs.
The artist, Brian Holden, wrote me back this great message:
"In answer to your question about being familiar with the Group of Seven...indeed I am. It would be a disservice to both them and yourself to say I have not been influenced by their vision and ways of looking at landscape. I grew up as a child in the immediate area on Lake Superior made famous by Lawren Harris (Pic Island) and also depicted to a lesser degree by Franklin Carmichael and A.Y. Jackson.
"I would have to say my first visit to the McMichael Gallery in Toronto was where I really developed a sense of connection to their landscapes and perhaps subconsciously now these influences and color palettes emerge to some greater or lesser degree in my own work.
"The group visited Algoma region around Sault Ste. Marie more so as a collective, but as individuals several ventured a little more west along Superior towards Thunder Bay, Lawren Harris in particular to the area I grew up and know so well in my life.
"I have a bit of knowledge on the group and can also recommend places to view works and also spots where they actually painted if you are interested."
This email made my day! We exchanged a few more messages, and in the end he gave me a great list of places to visit. One of these days (hopefully this fall), I'm going to hit the road, a bona fide member of the Group of Seven fan club.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Maybe I Can
I have some "allowance" ($20 a month, baby) and birthday money saved up, and I've been spending an undisclosable amount of time (too much) browsing etsy.com for things I want to buy for my room. It has come down to a search for my favorite wood and linoleum block prints. I was talking to an artist friend about my search yesterday, and I showed her a few of my favorites. She said, "oh, you could easily make these yourself." No, I couldn't. "Yes, it would not be hard," she assured me. Later in the day, I continued thinking about this. She may not realize that I can't draw--that I'm not good with detail work, or with my hands. It never in a million years would have occurred to me that I could actually make these things which I admire so much. I have wished I could make such things, but not with any hope of actually being able to do it.
This morning my thoughts had taken a new direction. As I drove to school I saw things everywhere I looked that I would like to make prints of. I was thinking about the print I ordered last night, and how much I love it, and how it is just a simple symbolic, not literal, representation of a beautiful landscape. I might be able to do symbolic. The prints that I am most drawn to, besides landscapes, are trees, some flowers, and lots of abstract geometrical designs. Tonight as I continue my search through the print makers selling on etsy, I can see how willing I am to pay for circles and squares, if they are carved into a block and printed on good paper with vibrant ink. I am thinking, I can draw circles and squares. Heck, I doodle designs all the time on my papers. What I cannot draw is a cat that looks like a cat. The cats I draw today look exactly like the cats I drew when I was four years old. Exactly. Dan sits in church and draw things for the girls that look just like those things. Not me. I guess I have been thinking I could only create visual art through photography, since I can't draw. But I have very little interest in technology and gadgets and figuring out how to use the intricate machine which is a camera. What I want to be able to do is somehow capture and record the beautiful things I see around me: the forests and beaches in Oregon; all of my favorite trees in Ann Arbor; the high deserts of sagebrush and lava rock in Idaho; glorious sunsets.
Maybe I can.
This morning my thoughts had taken a new direction. As I drove to school I saw things everywhere I looked that I would like to make prints of. I was thinking about the print I ordered last night, and how much I love it, and how it is just a simple symbolic, not literal, representation of a beautiful landscape. I might be able to do symbolic. The prints that I am most drawn to, besides landscapes, are trees, some flowers, and lots of abstract geometrical designs. Tonight as I continue my search through the print makers selling on etsy, I can see how willing I am to pay for circles and squares, if they are carved into a block and printed on good paper with vibrant ink. I am thinking, I can draw circles and squares. Heck, I doodle designs all the time on my papers. What I cannot draw is a cat that looks like a cat. The cats I draw today look exactly like the cats I drew when I was four years old. Exactly. Dan sits in church and draw things for the girls that look just like those things. Not me. I guess I have been thinking I could only create visual art through photography, since I can't draw. But I have very little interest in technology and gadgets and figuring out how to use the intricate machine which is a camera. What I want to be able to do is somehow capture and record the beautiful things I see around me: the forests and beaches in Oregon; all of my favorite trees in Ann Arbor; the high deserts of sagebrush and lava rock in Idaho; glorious sunsets.
Maybe I can.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Musical Prayers
My dear friend gave a talk in church on Sunday about prayer. After sharing some of the struggles she has had with prayer, she told us that there is one form of prayer that she has always excelled in, and turned to Doctrine & Covenants 25:12. "For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads." Music has been her purest form of communication with God. She has often gone to the piano in times of sorrow and joy to play hymns and sing. She then shared some of the lyrics from favorite hymns that mean the most to her. It was such a beautiful expression of her love for God and her faith in him.
Later in the evening, she and I returned to the church to sing in an Easter concert for the community. I thought more about what she had said as we performed a beautiful series of pieces about Christ's birth, death, and resurrection. I, too, have difficulties with prayer. However, when I'm singing sacred music, which I love to do, I find myself focusing the words toward God, telling him that I agree with the lyrics whole-heartedly. I love the hymns of enthusiastic praise. I love many of the somber hymns about Christ's sacrifice for us. I love the hymns about struggling through hard times and finding strength and comfort in God. As a child (and still) I loved the primary songs. I used them to help myself overcome bad feelings. I remember singing them to my siblings at night to help them sleep. Perhaps the earliest spiritual feelings I had, my first feelings of connection to a living god, came from singing.
One of my gifts that brings me the greatest happiness is my ability to sing. I am not a soloist, by any means--and definitely not a soprano--but I have a clear, sweet, true voice, and I can thank God for that. I also thank my parents for singing the hymns so enthusiastically at home and at church, and my wonderful junior high choir director, Connie Branton, for giving me a lifetime's worth of vocal training in the three years I sang for her.
It could not be a coincidence that sacred music brought me and Dan together for the first time. We first met in a History of Civilization class at BYU. He was a student, and I was one of the three teaching assistants. After the first class, Dan came up and introduced himself and we chatted a bit about the hymn that we had listened to that morning, "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." He wanted to know if I was aware that it had a third verse that was not in our hymnbook? No, I was not. He shared the words of the unfamiliar verse with me. This made quite an impression, because I had never met anyone my age who even knew that hymn, since it was in an older edition of the hymn book which was no longer in active use. I only knew it because it was one of my dad's favorites, and he had taught it to us.
I remember a time when we were sitting in his truck talking, and he was upset about something. I started to sing "Beautiful Savior", another of my favorite hymns, and it was very moving for him to hear it at that moment, as it was a special favorite of his, as well. People were usually impressed with how many hymns I knew by heart, but it was nothing compared to the hymns Dan knew. He introduced me to all kinds of great ones that I had never sung before (like, "O Say What is Truth"), for which he knew not only all the verses, but the hymn numbers as well (oh, that math brain of his!). We have spent many happy hours on road trips singing together, and it is a sweet experience to now see our children learning to love these same songs.
Later in the evening, she and I returned to the church to sing in an Easter concert for the community. I thought more about what she had said as we performed a beautiful series of pieces about Christ's birth, death, and resurrection. I, too, have difficulties with prayer. However, when I'm singing sacred music, which I love to do, I find myself focusing the words toward God, telling him that I agree with the lyrics whole-heartedly. I love the hymns of enthusiastic praise. I love many of the somber hymns about Christ's sacrifice for us. I love the hymns about struggling through hard times and finding strength and comfort in God. As a child (and still) I loved the primary songs. I used them to help myself overcome bad feelings. I remember singing them to my siblings at night to help them sleep. Perhaps the earliest spiritual feelings I had, my first feelings of connection to a living god, came from singing.
One of my gifts that brings me the greatest happiness is my ability to sing. I am not a soloist, by any means--and definitely not a soprano--but I have a clear, sweet, true voice, and I can thank God for that. I also thank my parents for singing the hymns so enthusiastically at home and at church, and my wonderful junior high choir director, Connie Branton, for giving me a lifetime's worth of vocal training in the three years I sang for her.
It could not be a coincidence that sacred music brought me and Dan together for the first time. We first met in a History of Civilization class at BYU. He was a student, and I was one of the three teaching assistants. After the first class, Dan came up and introduced himself and we chatted a bit about the hymn that we had listened to that morning, "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." He wanted to know if I was aware that it had a third verse that was not in our hymnbook? No, I was not. He shared the words of the unfamiliar verse with me. This made quite an impression, because I had never met anyone my age who even knew that hymn, since it was in an older edition of the hymn book which was no longer in active use. I only knew it because it was one of my dad's favorites, and he had taught it to us.
I remember a time when we were sitting in his truck talking, and he was upset about something. I started to sing "Beautiful Savior", another of my favorite hymns, and it was very moving for him to hear it at that moment, as it was a special favorite of his, as well. People were usually impressed with how many hymns I knew by heart, but it was nothing compared to the hymns Dan knew. He introduced me to all kinds of great ones that I had never sung before (like, "O Say What is Truth"), for which he knew not only all the verses, but the hymn numbers as well (oh, that math brain of his!). We have spent many happy hours on road trips singing together, and it is a sweet experience to now see our children learning to love these same songs.
Monday, April 18, 2011
The benefits are endless!
Here are some of the changes I've noticed since moving into my own room:
1) Nascent ability to decorate
One of the first things I did in my new room was take some of my favorite beautiful things out of storage and put them on top of my dresser. This includes a Motawi tile by one of my favorite artists, the Japanese kokeshi doll I received as an exchange student, a little blue and white porcelain dish filled with shells I collected in North Carolina and Florida, and the ceramic bowl my sister made for me in high school. I found my favorite quilt (patchwork flannel in earth tones, made by my mother) in the linen closet and put it on my bed. I brought my two favorite Persian rugs into my room.
I have never really decorated my home. I want it to be beautiful, but I have this big mental block about it. I don't know where to start, I don't feel capable of making decisions in this area, fearing that whatever I decide to do I will get tired of or regret. But in my room, it feels much easier. Maybe because it is a smaller space, or because it is just for me, I'm warming up to the idea of putting things up on the walls that I love. I'm wondering if it will be easier for me to do pretty things in the rest of the house after I've had the chance to work on my own little room.
2) A home for my things
Another thing I've noticed is that when I'm trying to clean up the house, I now take anything that belongs to me and put it in my room. I don't know why I now feel like gathering all of my possessions to that room, but did not feel that way when I shared a room. This includes mail. I have never gotten a system down for dealing with papers, and we have a big paper clutter problem. Since getting my own room, I take every piece of paper I find that belongs to me and put it in a box in my room. It is already much easier for me to find things. I don't know that I ever before thought of papers as being either mine or Dan's, but the distinction is easy to make now that we have separate rooms, and I'm taking responsibility for mine in a way I did not do in the past.
3) More reading and writing
I have longed to have my own desk, but there was not room for one in our other bedroom. In my new bedroom, with my smaller bed, I can fit a desk, and I found one that I loved at the local consignment shop, Treasure Mart. I have been reading and writing more. Dan and I have never done a very good job at going to bed or getting up together. I usually go to bed a lot later than Dan since I get to take a nap every afternoon. I really like reading in bed at night, but when Dan was ready to sleep I felt guilty keeping my lamp on because I knew it bothered him. But I also didn't want to read in the living room because it felt cold and exposed compared to my bed. Now I can read and write to my heart's content at night without bothering anyone. I think this new situation has a lot to do with the fact that I have recently started blogging again.
4) More romance
It is more romantic in a lot of ways to have separate rooms. We are more likely to say good night to each other now, since we know we will not end up in the same bed later. Dan makes more of an effort to come and find me in my room before he turns in for the night. We often invite the other to come snuggle and talk with us in our bed. It makes me feel like I'm in college at BYU again, when boys could only come into the girls' dorm rooms on Sundays for two hours during visiting time. That was so exciting! When Dan comes into my room now, I know he wants to be with me. This is quite different from sharing a room and knowing your spouse may not want to be with you, but just to be in his bedroom, which you happen to share with him. It is so flattering.
I also feel better when I'm sleeping knowing that Dan can't hear me snore. It is very hard on one's ego and feeling of cuteness to be a snorer, especially if your true love is bothered by it every night. Now I can snore in privacy. I also like having my own room to change in, especially when we're getting ready for a date, because it is fun to come out all beautified and say, "ta-da"!
5) Private mountain top
For months before getting my own room, I had been thinking about having a mountain top or a wilderness or a closet where I could pray. I did not feel that there was any private space for me anywhere in the house. Even when I am in the bathroom, the little girls are either with me, or banging on the door telling me to open it for them. I now find myself retreating to my room during the day when I need to time to collect myself.
I have never considered myself a loner, but since this change I have discovered that I really crave some privacy and separateness, perhaps because I am at a stage in life with very little of that. Dan has a private space in his office at work, which he has decorated, and where he keeps his paperwork. He spends a large chunk of each day alone. Just knowing I have my own space in the house makes me feel stronger and my head clearer.
1) Nascent ability to decorate
One of the first things I did in my new room was take some of my favorite beautiful things out of storage and put them on top of my dresser. This includes a Motawi tile by one of my favorite artists, the Japanese kokeshi doll I received as an exchange student, a little blue and white porcelain dish filled with shells I collected in North Carolina and Florida, and the ceramic bowl my sister made for me in high school. I found my favorite quilt (patchwork flannel in earth tones, made by my mother) in the linen closet and put it on my bed. I brought my two favorite Persian rugs into my room.
I have never really decorated my home. I want it to be beautiful, but I have this big mental block about it. I don't know where to start, I don't feel capable of making decisions in this area, fearing that whatever I decide to do I will get tired of or regret. But in my room, it feels much easier. Maybe because it is a smaller space, or because it is just for me, I'm warming up to the idea of putting things up on the walls that I love. I'm wondering if it will be easier for me to do pretty things in the rest of the house after I've had the chance to work on my own little room.
2) A home for my things
Another thing I've noticed is that when I'm trying to clean up the house, I now take anything that belongs to me and put it in my room. I don't know why I now feel like gathering all of my possessions to that room, but did not feel that way when I shared a room. This includes mail. I have never gotten a system down for dealing with papers, and we have a big paper clutter problem. Since getting my own room, I take every piece of paper I find that belongs to me and put it in a box in my room. It is already much easier for me to find things. I don't know that I ever before thought of papers as being either mine or Dan's, but the distinction is easy to make now that we have separate rooms, and I'm taking responsibility for mine in a way I did not do in the past.
3) More reading and writing
I have longed to have my own desk, but there was not room for one in our other bedroom. In my new bedroom, with my smaller bed, I can fit a desk, and I found one that I loved at the local consignment shop, Treasure Mart. I have been reading and writing more. Dan and I have never done a very good job at going to bed or getting up together. I usually go to bed a lot later than Dan since I get to take a nap every afternoon. I really like reading in bed at night, but when Dan was ready to sleep I felt guilty keeping my lamp on because I knew it bothered him. But I also didn't want to read in the living room because it felt cold and exposed compared to my bed. Now I can read and write to my heart's content at night without bothering anyone. I think this new situation has a lot to do with the fact that I have recently started blogging again.
4) More romance
It is more romantic in a lot of ways to have separate rooms. We are more likely to say good night to each other now, since we know we will not end up in the same bed later. Dan makes more of an effort to come and find me in my room before he turns in for the night. We often invite the other to come snuggle and talk with us in our bed. It makes me feel like I'm in college at BYU again, when boys could only come into the girls' dorm rooms on Sundays for two hours during visiting time. That was so exciting! When Dan comes into my room now, I know he wants to be with me. This is quite different from sharing a room and knowing your spouse may not want to be with you, but just to be in his bedroom, which you happen to share with him. It is so flattering.
I also feel better when I'm sleeping knowing that Dan can't hear me snore. It is very hard on one's ego and feeling of cuteness to be a snorer, especially if your true love is bothered by it every night. Now I can snore in privacy. I also like having my own room to change in, especially when we're getting ready for a date, because it is fun to come out all beautified and say, "ta-da"!
5) Private mountain top
For months before getting my own room, I had been thinking about having a mountain top or a wilderness or a closet where I could pray. I did not feel that there was any private space for me anywhere in the house. Even when I am in the bathroom, the little girls are either with me, or banging on the door telling me to open it for them. I now find myself retreating to my room during the day when I need to time to collect myself.
I have never considered myself a loner, but since this change I have discovered that I really crave some privacy and separateness, perhaps because I am at a stage in life with very little of that. Dan has a private space in his office at work, which he has decorated, and where he keeps his paperwork. He spends a large chunk of each day alone. Just knowing I have my own space in the house makes me feel stronger and my head clearer.
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