Imprints
My office has stars on the ceiling.
My daughter put the stars on the ceiling when the office
was her bedroom. She liked the way they glowed after the light was turned
off for the night. She painted the walls blue and then painted white clouds
on the blue walls. These were some of the things that made her feel good
about the room. When she grew up and I moved my office back upstairs from
the basement, I kept my daughter's stars - and I added my own touches that
make me feel good about the room - like the mirrors that bounce the light
around, and the colourful file folders.
I don't think of her every time I notice the stars or the
blue walls that still line the closet. But something lovely of her has been
left behind in this room. It adds a sweetness to the work I do in here. Long
after this room passes on to someone else, her energy and my energy and even
the energy of all the people who have talked with us while we have been
here, will leave their traces.
We leave imprints wherever we go. The world is changed
because we have been here. If the energy that lingers is difficult, it can
be easily cleared, but when it is pleasant, we may want to keep it around
for a while, even though we know it will eventually dilute and then
dissipate.
But for now, I work in a room with stars on the ceiling.
And I hope that whoever inherits this room from my daughter and then from me
will enjoy the traces we have left behind.
Stories like these are a regular feature of my free monthly Ezine, Starry Night.
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