Despite vision boards and curated image collections, despite the sparkly hopes and the dreamy dreams, the house we live in is the house we have. For better or worse. For now, or maybe much longer than now. The structure is there, hard and fast, unchanging, decided for you. The walls are where they are, the windows, too. The floor is what it is. And the ceiling. They’re all there. No more, no less.
All the good imaginations, the wonderful hopes and dreams? We don’t live in them. We live in the here, in the now, in the real and raw. Maybe in the very place we never wanted to be.
We live in the mess.
In the unknown. In the imperfect. In this reality.
In these walls, with this footprint, and this square footage, in this house, with these windows facing that direction.
We live here.
This is surrender.
This is a practice. Daily. Sometimes hourly. Sometimes by moments.
The practice comes as gratitude. And it comes as grief. Both true at the same time. Tears can be coursing from the overwhelm and heartache of it all, even while you whisper, Thank you, thank you, thank you.
And in the practice of surrender, inspiration comes. A door opens. Beauty finds her way. An idea kindles, flames, and becomes something bright and good. Do this here, she says, and that there. And you see what you didn’t see before.
The space doesn’t change, but you change within it.
When the one-room dwelling doesn’t have room for a bed, give the bed a slice of the end of the room — just enough space for it to fill every inch. A bed nook. Frame it with millwork, soften it with drapery, tuck drawers beneath and a bookcase behind the headboard. Mount swing arm lamps. Hang a mirror where you wish a window to be, letting it bounce the light, letting it expand the space.
And somehow, somehow, somehow, there. There’s a room within a room. More than you thought you had. The beauty of living, the synergy of surrender. The hope of gratitude, the gift of grief.
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If you’re new and feel like you’ve joined in the middle of the story, you can sit down with a cup of tea and read the whole thing by going to the archive here, then scrolling back to begin with October’s Letter of 2025.
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And here for you are more bed nooks to be inspired by:
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