I've got a thing about shelves. Over ten years ago, I moved into a little dark bedroom on Shepherdess Walk in London. Everything was on the ground in piles - my bed, my books, my clothes, my CDs. I decided that if I was to raise my perspective, it might help to literally get some stuff off the ground, so I got a hammer and built some shelves one Saturday night while rocking out to Patti Smith. It made a brilliant difference.
I've been craving for shelves in the tree house I live in, so last week I visited a fruit vendor for some crates. I tossed a rainbow local fabric over them. These shelves by my side hold my cultivated binders of retreat inspiration, my draft manuscript and children stories, Spanish lessons and books, Osho Zen Tarot cards, my sketchbooks, pouches of colorful gifts, pencil bags, postcards from the last retreat - one drawn by me and one gifted - and a precious book cover for one of my stories created by my beautiful and amazingly thoughtful friend Sarah to inspire me to hold true to my voice and dreams.
I'm a shelves-bandit. They help to keep me close to parts of me that I care about, reminding me that they are always at arm's reach inside, too. What small and simple things are sacred to you?