I recently culled my blog reader of all the design blogs I subscribed to. Daily my reader had been inundated with pictures of beautiful homes, the latest colours and the newest accessories. They featured talented and gifted people who had turned their passion for colour and creativity into liveable, beautiful spaces and products. I know these blogs are meant to inspire us and, lets’ be honest, encourage us to buy said beautiful things. I crave a lovely home, full of beauty and colour, I really do. I want my house to welcome people in and make them feel peaceful and content. I want our house to reflect our family in all its richness and diversity.
But reading these blogs made me feel ‘less than’. So I deleted them.
I don’t want my house, or my life, to be tainted with a beauty that is common or competitive or dictated. I want to be able to appreciate the gift of these artists without feeling like I need to replicate them. I want the beauty of our house and life to be born from the adventure of our shared lives and the discovery of who we are as a family. I want it to mean something.
And isn’t that the point, friends? Unless the picture I hang, the cushion I buy or rug I walk on somehow tells a story of our lives, than really, it’s just a cushion (or a rug or pretty picture). It needs to add to our lives. It needs to whisper something to us of contentment, welcome, safety, goodness or joy. Beautiful things need to more than beautiful things.
(On a side note: How can it only be Day 6? It feels closer to 13? 14? Goodness, we still have 25 days to go!)