Everyone who meditates knows they have a spirit room. A room they create in their mind that belongs only to them, though others can visit, if invited.
I was contemplating what mine looks like and, of course, I had to share it with you.
So, here it is, my room.
My room is painted in colors of blue shifting into teal. Ombre colors that feel like fabric against your palm. There are subtle scents in the space, they change each hour from Apple, Chai, Cinnamon, Lemon, Orange, Peppermint and Spearmint and back again.
The room is not cold, nor hot, rather, there is a gentle breeze that keeps the room from being too much of one or the other.
There are textures here, soft blankets of cashmere, smooth glass, bumpy stone. Stone statues share space with wooden bowls and flickering candles. There are origami birds, piecemeal quilts and slightly quirky objects of art spanning every wall.
Hanging from the ceiling are glass spheres that capture and reflect the light. They dangle down but are too high to hinder movement. There are intimate touches everywhere, items you can tell are personal to me.
In one corner we find an old rocking chair, in another an old leather recliner big enough to nap in, with a blanket tossed along it’s back, the blanket is teal and blue stripes with a very thin line of red to break up the colors.
There are sounds of drums and violins. Soft pipes and scraping sticks being knocked against each other. There are wind-chimes and water fountains.
There are also books. Shelves of them spanning from ceiling to floor. Old but much loved spines presenting their backsides to the eye of those looking for a warm day curled up in a corner.
The floor is wide-planked wood in grey and ash. Smooth and polished and left bare but for several white fluffy rugs giving it an air of a woodside cabin.
This, is my room. Come in and rest.