the artist in me will always want soul

2 days ago

4 min read

Updated: 4 hours ago

i am in my new room that is making me feel all mushy gushy because i love it so much. its nowhere far. just two floors down from my last one

its an october saturday morning as i write this

there actually isn't much better.

than a Saturday morning in October

especially because it has reached the point of fall where the air is crisp. so crisp it feels like you can take a deeper breath. and like it actually hydrates and nourishes you when you do

i went for a walk and when i walked up the drive way coming home, i actually couldn't wait to come downstairs to my little sacred space

its not even done yet,

my clothes are in piles on the floor waiting to go into the dresser that i have had my eye on for a few weeks at the resale store

it was meant for me, because it is still there.

i love my room and all of my things

i love that my room is almost entirely thrifted expect for my bed

i love my doilies that lay under my floral vases

that sit on my oak wood bedside tables that i got from an antique store in barrie

i love my pictures frames that are all different shapes and sizes and none of them match

most filled with old photos i collected from my grandparents house. their house in Oshawa Ontario and their house in Foz, Portugal

one is my mom and my two aunts, young, bandanas and pencil skirts

one is my grandpa in his cherry tree that my cousins and i grew up climbing. you can only see his skinny hard worked legs in the photo standing on a ladder. top half of him swallowed by the cherry tree

framed photo booth strips of my best friend in i from lisbon

and one of my grandma and grandpa on the front porch of their house in Portugal that i took last summer

my standing jewelry box that i was so excited to find. stuffed with vintage jewelry, rings with jumbo crystals and chunky necklaces i like to wear in the summer, my wide variety of bangles and bracelets that eat my wrists

my betty boop bobble head standing on it

my desk, my space. my creative outlet.

my big, deep red and magenta, floral coloured wine box full of incense that i bought from a witchy store a couple of towns over from mine. the lady working their gave me 2 to clear negative energy and two of her favourites. she gave me the last of her absolute favourite then kissed it goodbye before she wrapped it up for me

my incense holder

my bookshelf, full of romance novels and yoga books, reiki manual, poetry books, taro and oracle cards

my purfume dish with my daily perfume, essenial oils from my yoga retreat in mexico and one from my YTT, one perfume my friend got me for christmas because i told her i LOVED it on her

clothes and more clothes from approximately 50 different value villages, flea markets in portugal, vintage shops in newyork

purses

purses i like to wear in each season

nothing in here is here solely for practicality or fillers

all things that i have found to be beautiful

and gathered

i like having a room that each corner looks like my soul threw up on it

i like having no surface level relationship to anything in my life

not even the basket under my desk

there was a time earlier this year

when i was in italy

lugging around two suitcase wondering why must i need so much

why would i ever pack so much

babydoll tops, dresses of different lengths, a wide variety of funky pants and tank tops, a few belts, jewelry, supplements, notebooks

i felt it was restricting me from moving from place to place quickly and efficiently

i felt restricted from the urge i had to run

this was when i started plotting and planning how i can be a minimalist

i was longing to feel light and free

i want to need little

i don't want to rely on anything

i don't want magnesium for sleep or medication for adhd

i want to be entirely free spirited

but oh how i don't ever think i could break the spell that is the gravitation pull of me walking past a second hand store

the allure

the treasures

the seduction it has over me

i musn't deprive myself of that joy, i thought

the thing i can get so entirely lost in

that i do when i have had treacherous insomnia the night before so i drive to a thrift store and get lost in it for hours to distract myself from exhaustion

the creativity, the individuality

i would lose so much of the joy i get from life

the richness

the deep nostalgia and wholeness i see from looking through old photos

the hours i have spent sitting on the floor looking through albums of family photos over and over

the books that have such grip on me

i get so in captivated by things

by life

there is nothing more exciting to me than starting a day, either while away traveling or a regular day at home, and having the new sweater or pants i am absolutely obsessed with, that i found the day before, to put on.

i think i will always deeply admire the idea of the simplicity and clearness

belonging to nowhere

needing very little, being able to leave so easily.

the freedom that would come from a minimalist lifestyle

i just don't think it outweighs the freedom that comes from the ability to search, find, create, express

i like pieces that remind me of the places i have been or the clothes i found that speak for me

gathering pieces of life

proof of life

colour, details, patterns, lace

pages, photos,

art

i would hate to become too detached from things in the world that i lose my utter awe of the silly little vase i find in the antique store