I hate my kitchen.
Years ago, when I first set foot in this kitchen as a prospective home buyer, it was the thing I liked least about this house. It is old (the house was built in the late 80s), it is ugly (cheap, “country style” cabinetry), the layout is somewhat impractical, and there is a pitifully inadequate amount of counter space. Obviously it wasn’t a deal breaker, but I knew that it was the first thing I wanted to change, as soon as we could financially afford to do so. We’ve lived here for eight years, and that opportunity has yet to occur.
It probably goes without saying that, although I feel this way about my kitchen, I use it every day. With other rooms it may be possible to simply shut the door and ignore their presence (ManCave, anyone?), but the kitchen is at the center of my activity at home. And the more time I spend there, the less I notice the things that bother me. This is the room where I prepare the meals that will provide sustenance and nourishment for myself and my family. The human-made miracles of running water and refrigeration are present here. This is the place where I exercise and indulge every one of my senses; where I learn and experiment and play…
I love my kitchen!
When I stand apart from it and look upon my kitchen, my feelings are not positive. But when I stand within and use my kitchen, my emotions, my attitude – the room itself – are completely transformed.
As with everywhere we go in this life, what we bring to the places we inhabit is what creates the reality of the space, colors our experience of the location. An old, empty warehouse can be a center for learning; a blue, rectangular aluminum structure can be a sacred place of worship and community; an outdated, tired building can be a home. We create the essence of the container of our life through our living perspective.
What are you bringing to the spaces you inhabit?