Sometimes what’s on the beach appears to be a scattered collection of stuff; in this case, stones, kelp, and bamboo roots. I look around and see that jumble in my house sometimes, the scattered collections of books and papers and art and collected objects and utensils and furniture and lighting and just plain stuff. Some of it’s useful, some of it needs sorting, some of it needs tossing, some of it needs cataloging, some of it needs cherishing, even.
When you look out at the expanse of ocean, though, it is in such great contrast to the shore’s jumble. It is smooth and endless and seems all of a piece. It is so clearly what it is, and although there are many life forms in and below and sometimes above that water, its apparent uniformity is calming and centering. Maybe that’s why houses need blank walls or picture windows with simple views.
I have lived in 19 different rooms/houses. I’m still trying to make it right for myself. That room with the view eludes me, or perhaps I have it inside-out?