I’ve been working over the last several weeks to update our living room. It’s a beautiful space, but awkwardly shaped. I started with a new rug and then wondered if a new sofa was the answer. Then, I realized that it was the layout itself. The seating was too far apart and there was nowhere practical to set your drink or snack. I made a plan and set out to accomplish it, like I do.
I contacted a woman on Instagram who works with people to arrange their existing furniture in a way that makes the most sense, feels cozy, and doesn’t require buying anything new. Her recommendation of moving the furniture into a closer configuration was genius. I was able to take it from there. I’m a thrift and bargain hound, so I scored some amazing deals on a new console for our ancient TV that was once my grandfathers, a couple of beautiful bronze and marble side tables (secondhand and Facebook marketplace), and then intuitively walked into the clearance section of a furniture store “just to see” and found the perfect couch on deep discount, and even deeper still with a little haggling. I rearranged a little, updated a few decorations, and got Jeffrey a new living room bed. (he has a bed in every room) And it’s perfect for us.
It’s now one of my favorite places in our house, and I find myself taking my coffee there each morning to enjoy the new space.
But I’m also deeply aware that I’ve been trying to create this space because what I actually need and crave is space within myself.
The space inside of me needs a new configuration. Closer for better conversation, so that me and myself can talk softly instead of yelling across the room. My space inside needs to release old pieces that have served me so well, for so many years, but are now ready to be released. There are parts of me that hold old stories about what is and is not possible. They are furnishings of survival, and I don’t need them anymore. Now, I need the soft cushion of my own embodiment. I need the leather chair that will hold my new creations, bolstered by my ancestors.
This isn’t the first time I’ve expressed inner work outwardly. I’ve organized junk drawers, cleaned out closets, and tightly rolled my underwear into containers in my drawer, all in an unconscious avoidance of sitting with myself, in that close, relational space.
So I have an idea, and an invitation for you too. What if we met ourselves in those spaces we really need? And maybe it is the newly decorated living room, the perfect thrifted chair, up against the window with perfect lighting and your stack of books. Maybe it’s on your porch, or down the street at the park, maybe it’s in bed, the sun sneaking through the shades, the world still asleep. Maybe the space you need is just wherever it is you feel you can best meet yourself.
A few weeks ago, I identified some journal prompts to help me meet myself each morning. Then I promptly ignored them. But I do believe they are effective in knocking on the door of that self-reflective space. So my invitation is to join me in carving out a little space, maybe a few times weekly, to meet yourself. Feel free to use these prompts, or to create your own. I’d love to hear what you go with.
“What is here within me today that I need to acknowledge or honor?”
This can help you gently notice any emotions, physical sensations, or deeper needs that want your attention.“Where am I holding tension or ease in my body, and what might that be saying?”
This question can guide you into feeling and sensing, inviting awareness of your physical self as well as any messages or insights it may carry.“What does my inner landscape feel like today, and what does it ask of me?”
This prompt lets you explore your internal world with curiosity, giving space to anything that wants to be known, released, or nurtured.“What is quietly stirring or shifting within me today?”
This can help you sense subtle inner movements—new insights, emotions, or shifts in perspective—that might otherwise go unnoticed.“What do I most need to feel supported today?”
This one invites awareness of specific needs or ways to nurture yourself, letting you respond with care to what arises.“What parts of me feel vibrant or alive, and what parts feel in need of rest?”
This balances noticing both what’s energizing and what may need softness or space, helping you stay connected to your whole self.
There’s no pressure here (I’m saying that to myself) but maybe this kind of quiet time with self is just what we all need in the darkness of the cold season.
Yes! To all of this; especially appreciate the prompts to consider 😀