A Place Where the Muse Can Thrive

I felt like it needed a name.

When we returned home from vacation, we undertook a full-throttle reorganization of the house -- beginning with the kitchen and pantry, which relied heavily on the garage.  On a roll, however, our energies eventually took us downstairs to a corner of the basement living room that only Barrington ever used.  It was attractive, but uninspiring -- devoid of that evocative appeal that mystically whispers "come."

To make matters worse, the windows had leaked, leaving the carpet below stained and the paint blistered.  The leak had been fixed, but vacation -- and a bit of watchful prudence -- had delayed remediation.  What greeted us, then, was a dead and damaged zone, and a desire to create something special -- a centering space, focusing and deep; a nourishing space that would put its visitors in a good mind.

The furniture, we realized -- a comfortable leather sofa and chair -- backed to the windows, squandering the lovely and blossoming view.  The arrangement, instead, opened to the room in a way that offered only redundancy, never a voice of its own.  The walls nearby were minimally accented.

So, we went to work creating a room within a room; one that drew the eyes to the blossoms and branches outside, or to the inspirational artifacts assembled nearby-- art pieces, selected books, nourishing family photographs, and memories; a space that first beckoned that then welcomed and finally led the way to a sacred place...

...a listening heart...

...a liberated spirit...

...a good mind.

And I thought it needed a name.  No one else need worry about remembering it, but I have come to call it "buona mente" -- Italian (because of its own evocative appeal) meaning "good mind."  Because when I go to this quiet space, that's really where I want to arrive -- an enriching place where the Muse and my better self can generatively thrive.