I moved into a new home late last year.
Before that it was Airbnb to Airbnb, family house, Airbnb again. Never fully landing anywhere. Always slightly in-between.
So when I finally moved my new apartment, I was really looking forward to having my own space again. But especially a small sacred nook, a place where I could solely focus on my practice.
When I first viewed the apartment, I already had the spot in mind. It felt clear that would be the place. But when I moved in, I quickly realised it wasn’t that simple. The ceiling is slanted, with wooden beams (which I completely fell in love with). Beautiful, but not very practical.
I moved my yoga mat from room to room. Rearranged furniture. Compromised on Feng Shui. Tried to convince myself that another corner would do.
Nothing felt fully right, and deep down something in me dimmed a little.
It wasn’t obvious that it was because of the lack of the space I was craving. It didn’t click in the rational part of my brain that that was it. I just felt slightly off. Slightly resentful even, and a small smidge of regret towards my new home.
“How silly,” I thought. Surely I can just make do?
But that’s just not how I’m wired. When I have a vision or an idea, I need to make it work exactly - or almost exactly (there’s some wiggle room) - how I see it.
Last night, while going to bed, I suddenly decided to try again. I went back to the initial space I had envisioned when I first moved in.
I rearranged it all.
And with a bit of determination (and yes, some small compromises), I made it work.
It’s small. But I can see the sky. The sun pours in. I can sit on my mat with light on my face. I can be there all day if I want to.
After I finished, something in me lit back up.
It was subtle, but clear ~ a light joy. It was only when I felt it again that I realised how much I had needed that space.
There’s a lesson in this.
Listen to what you need - even if it seems small. Even if it doesn’t make sense to other people. Even if it feels “not important enough.” Manage and create your life in a way that your light doesn’t get dimmed. Or at least doesn’t stay dimmed for too long.
Sometimes situations aren’t directly changeable. But sometimes they are, and we ignore the quiet pull because it feels inconvenient.
The external spaces we create matter - our homes are an extension of ourselves. They hold our nervous system. They reflect what we prioritise.
And sometimes, protecting a tiny corner of your home is actually protecting your inner world.