I brought warm socks and an extra sweatshirt thinking an older, large building might be chilly. It was an ill-placed concern. All of the windows are new – and therefore tight. Each room has an individual thermostat to regulate heat (I had to get up in the night to turn it back – too warm under the covers). Every room seems to have (by design) a window looking out onto the water. And in front of each window is a comfortable chair; mine is a recliner.
Lunch and dinner are served as meals; we are called by the light ringing of a bell. Breakfast items are available for you to serve yourself and then clean up afterward. It strikes me as brilliant to have planned this – people can get up whenever they want.
Bathroom facilities are communal, but more than ample; lots of space. There is a large living room with chairs, books, magazines, and music with head sets. The windows in this room reach nearly to the floor so you can turn your chair and look out onto the water and its unrelenting action. Beyond the living room is a lovely curved porch with pillars, and a ceiling painted in a light aqua. There is no furniture out there at this time, but it’s still a delight to see.
There is a small dining room with a curved façade at one end and windows to the water. And of course there is a kitchen which is quite sizeable.
By the time I took a shower at about 10 a.m. the snow had stopped, the sun had come out, the sky began to clear, and the horizon came into view. It is a good day! While I am not at all versed it the coming and going of tides, the time I spent on the lower level, nearest the water, suggested that it was high tide.
I wonder if I dare say it: I find a significant part of my life in and with God, in art. That of course would be a loose use of the word “art.” I have in mind my writing, my photography, and even my encounters with “coloring.” Part of my time this morning has been used in coloring a master sheet, a sort of themed mosaic around the repetition of five designs. It was an exercise of “staying inside the lines” which, as a long since ingrained rules gal, is well within my skill set. I started on the inner pattern of five, a contiguous mosaic-like Star of David. Aside from staying in the lines, I set as a goal in this area not to repeat any color in the same location. (The star is made up of the same pattern repeated five times.) I held onto that approach as I worked to the outer levels but here decided on one subtle element of color pattern. I would be surprised if anyone could identify it…I’m pretty sure I could not if I didn’t know. As I was doing this it occurred to me that there was rational, or philosophy, or meaning to what I set out to do. Staying within the lines, within the boundaries is (it seems to me) a necessary component for a healthy society. The decided variety I assigned to the inner core of the “work of art” (!) suggests the infinite variety of creation and the ways in which its pieces – and its people – cooperate, can “sit next to” one another. The built in pattern signifies the over-arching plan that is a part of creation. The idea of a world without a plan is not acceptable – or accessible – to me. As I neared completion of this effort, I determined to leave one space uncolored. This is the opening for wisdom to continue to enter in…