Hi Lyn, I always look forward to these essays from you. This one particularly had me completely engrossed. I love the detailed description of your room, the furniture, accessories, books, all of it. I've always wanted a little room of my own or at least a small corner, just for me. Since we downsized, a couple times now, we are living in an "over 55 community" that feels so stagnant and depressing to me The closest Ive' come to having a room of my own, is going to a beautiful park near me, with a small lake that is a bird sanctuary, This is where I can be me, listen with headphones to beautiful music while I walk around the trails surrounding the lake. Being in nature with the trees, different species of birds and even the ground squirells centers and calms my anxiety and fear. Until I walk back into our small apartment. I do love being greeted by my cat though while my husband who has survived cancer twice now, is out working part time to supplement our social seccurity income that I am so afraid will be taken away from us by the monsters.
I watched the first few seasons of the Handmaids Tale until it started feeling to real to me. I saw or felt, what our 'leaders' at the time (same one we have now) were beginning to do to us and now, today it is so frightening to me, for us, and for our grandchildren and my 6 month old great granddaughter.
I want to stand on the porch WITH YOU!!
Thank you for being you and helping me feel not so alone.
I agree with your comments, and yes, the Handmaids Tale reference. Such scary times, and it's hard to imagine what kind of future is in store for our grandchildren.
As a young woman in the ‘70s I never considered I was limited. Smarts and good work carried the day. Now at age 70 in this strange climate, I see that others always thought I (we) had limits. The profanity remains in my throat. Just today we read our beloved Arlington Cemetery scrubbed all mention of women and minorities from their website. Will they cover the headstones with red caps? No. This noxious period will pass. And we will remain.
"While I admit to being a romantic, this is not me being nostalgic, it’s about craving realness in the here and now."
Loved that line!
Right now ...is such a strange, strange time. I will turn 70 in about 8 weeks. Only mentioning this because of facts that go with that timeline: I am so, so, so, so glad that I know life before: cell phones, the internet, social media...the list goes on. Realness! Yes please. You are doing a very good job of putting in to words the jarring collision of navigating the now....while having within you....knowledge of a time when .....
You’re so right p, the powers that be are trying to diminish our existence - we are being manipulated by angry people who want to control our lives. How dare they drive us backwards. At 77 years of age (this month), I still have the desire, strength and mental acuity to make my own choices and voice heard. And, yes, I too have my own space to reinvent and rejuvenate myself as necessary. It is critical for my sanity. I must admit I am glad I am at this stage of my life because I truly would not want to be starting a family or career in this chaotic climate.
Thanks so much for your beautiful words and thoughts.
Thank you for another beautiful essay, Lyn. More than ever, the comforts of home are more important and more reassuring than ever. With so much stress in this country, it's natural to want to pull back, to retreat into something beautiful and "real" as you noted -- and we have to create that ourselves.
Thank you for your beautifully written essay. It was easy to see you, your wonderful room, and feel your real connection to your community.
I am interested in your study of the history of Irish women and wondered if you might have a moment, if you could share a book or author or two I might pursue. I have a tintype of my ancestor who came from Ireland (County Cork) during the early potato famine and I have wondered about her daily life for as long as I can remember.
My heart skips a beat when I see the notice of a new piece because I just LOVE feeling 'included'. Even if you decide to monetize I will subscribe. However, there may be many who are unable to go there... For their sake - and mine - keep doing what you are doing. I am so glad I discovered you long ago in your days of the Accidental Icon; I've been holding onto your coat tails ever since. Thank you for being a leading light. Yes, I am fortunate to have a room of my own - in fact, I have a whole home of my own and count my blessings each and every day. My room is not as pretty as yours - mine is a bit like a workshop! I am happy here.
Your writing just gets better over time, Lyn. In the house I moved into six weeks ago, my office remains the last room to be tended to. Still unpacked, disorganized, crowded with boxes, a pile of pillows, a desk and a chair, bolts of fabric, a collapsed project table for seed starting, framing, sewing. Perhaps I asked too much of this tiny room. The light is not right, it’s smaller than my last space, I’ll get to it later, the functional and public spaces take priority, is not the garden my “office” as well? Hmmm. Once again you give me much food for thought. Oh! And this simple, stunning sentence that prods at a meta goal as I stare down the existential challenge of turning 69 later this year (a year also presenting potential for more society-wide dread and destruction than any birthday can): “An absolute and total acceptance of my age, older life and death.” Thank you for resuming your regular dispatches!
Whoops, continued. When I was in my early teens I remember asking myself one day what things in my life would signify that I was a grown woman and 'a vase cupboard' was one of my answers. Sweetly naive I know, now that I've weathered six decades of loss and love. But part of me is also full of love for that observant girl, who wordlessly understood the value of detailed care and delight in the small rituals of domestic life.
Lyn, thank you for another beautiful essay. I, too, find solace in my dressing room, though the size is more of a small walk-in closet. I put a wayward chair I reupholstered in there and sometimes sit alone, in pure silence for long meditative stretches of time. Being married for twenty-seven years, having a place to retreat to that is not shared or compromised in decor as the rest of our space is comforting.
I love every bit of this, Lyn and especially all the careful details you supply. Since I have an Edwardian house myself I relate hugely to your sense of style and what you cherish most.
Here, I strive towards a kind of Thrift-Store meets Budget Bloomsbury vibe and have a little room of my own (my 'study') for writing. There are cream walls and plenty of light and I marvel at my good fortune every single time I go in there. There are many favourite books, a little bowl housing interesting stones that my sons selected as small children, particular pens and three fat ceramic bowls striped with lopsided swirls of violet and copper. Sometimes the Nag Champa incense still lingers from a previous day. I especially enjoyed hearing what you do with your flowers as I do the same! (And for me, a wild flower bouquet tied with twine is always more welcome than anything too fussy.)
Thank you as always for such intelligent and sensitive writing, I look forward to your posts very much. P.S. I also love the concept of a "morning room" as depicted in Daphne du Maurier's 'Rebecca!'
Hi Lyn, I always look forward to these essays from you. This one particularly had me completely engrossed. I love the detailed description of your room, the furniture, accessories, books, all of it. I've always wanted a little room of my own or at least a small corner, just for me. Since we downsized, a couple times now, we are living in an "over 55 community" that feels so stagnant and depressing to me The closest Ive' come to having a room of my own, is going to a beautiful park near me, with a small lake that is a bird sanctuary, This is where I can be me, listen with headphones to beautiful music while I walk around the trails surrounding the lake. Being in nature with the trees, different species of birds and even the ground squirells centers and calms my anxiety and fear. Until I walk back into our small apartment. I do love being greeted by my cat though while my husband who has survived cancer twice now, is out working part time to supplement our social seccurity income that I am so afraid will be taken away from us by the monsters.
I watched the first few seasons of the Handmaids Tale until it started feeling to real to me. I saw or felt, what our 'leaders' at the time (same one we have now) were beginning to do to us and now, today it is so frightening to me, for us, and for our grandchildren and my 6 month old great granddaughter.
I want to stand on the porch WITH YOU!!
Thank you for being you and helping me feel not so alone.
Joy 💕
Scary times. I’m with you. Glad you’ve got your bird sanctuary; it is certainly calming. I could watch all day as they go about their bird business.
I agree with your comments, and yes, the Handmaids Tale reference. Such scary times, and it's hard to imagine what kind of future is in store for our grandchildren.
As a young woman in the ‘70s I never considered I was limited. Smarts and good work carried the day. Now at age 70 in this strange climate, I see that others always thought I (we) had limits. The profanity remains in my throat. Just today we read our beloved Arlington Cemetery scrubbed all mention of women and minorities from their website. Will they cover the headstones with red caps? No. This noxious period will pass. And we will remain.
I hope you're right -- that this noxious period will pass. I hope.
Dear Lyn - I am in awe of your writing and your very authentic voice. You share so openly and I admire that. Thank you for your substack today.
"While I admit to being a romantic, this is not me being nostalgic, it’s about craving realness in the here and now."
Loved that line!
Right now ...is such a strange, strange time. I will turn 70 in about 8 weeks. Only mentioning this because of facts that go with that timeline: I am so, so, so, so glad that I know life before: cell phones, the internet, social media...the list goes on. Realness! Yes please. You are doing a very good job of putting in to words the jarring collision of navigating the now....while having within you....knowledge of a time when .....
You’re so right p, the powers that be are trying to diminish our existence - we are being manipulated by angry people who want to control our lives. How dare they drive us backwards. At 77 years of age (this month), I still have the desire, strength and mental acuity to make my own choices and voice heard. And, yes, I too have my own space to reinvent and rejuvenate myself as necessary. It is critical for my sanity. I must admit I am glad I am at this stage of my life because I truly would not want to be starting a family or career in this chaotic climate.
Thanks so much for your beautiful words and thoughts.
I like the "stand on the porch" metaphor, but I wouldn't blame you for going back inside.
Wonderful words I felt I was in the room with you wishing you all good wishes
Thank you for another beautiful essay, Lyn. More than ever, the comforts of home are more important and more reassuring than ever. With so much stress in this country, it's natural to want to pull back, to retreat into something beautiful and "real" as you noted -- and we have to create that ourselves.
Hello Lyn,
Thank you for your beautifully written essay. It was easy to see you, your wonderful room, and feel your real connection to your community.
I am interested in your study of the history of Irish women and wondered if you might have a moment, if you could share a book or author or two I might pursue. I have a tintype of my ancestor who came from Ireland (County Cork) during the early potato famine and I have wondered about her daily life for as long as I can remember.
My heart skips a beat when I see the notice of a new piece because I just LOVE feeling 'included'. Even if you decide to monetize I will subscribe. However, there may be many who are unable to go there... For their sake - and mine - keep doing what you are doing. I am so glad I discovered you long ago in your days of the Accidental Icon; I've been holding onto your coat tails ever since. Thank you for being a leading light. Yes, I am fortunate to have a room of my own - in fact, I have a whole home of my own and count my blessings each and every day. My room is not as pretty as yours - mine is a bit like a workshop! I am happy here.
Your writing just gets better over time, Lyn. In the house I moved into six weeks ago, my office remains the last room to be tended to. Still unpacked, disorganized, crowded with boxes, a pile of pillows, a desk and a chair, bolts of fabric, a collapsed project table for seed starting, framing, sewing. Perhaps I asked too much of this tiny room. The light is not right, it’s smaller than my last space, I’ll get to it later, the functional and public spaces take priority, is not the garden my “office” as well? Hmmm. Once again you give me much food for thought. Oh! And this simple, stunning sentence that prods at a meta goal as I stare down the existential challenge of turning 69 later this year (a year also presenting potential for more society-wide dread and destruction than any birthday can): “An absolute and total acceptance of my age, older life and death.” Thank you for resuming your regular dispatches!
Whoops, continued. When I was in my early teens I remember asking myself one day what things in my life would signify that I was a grown woman and 'a vase cupboard' was one of my answers. Sweetly naive I know, now that I've weathered six decades of loss and love. But part of me is also full of love for that observant girl, who wordlessly understood the value of detailed care and delight in the small rituals of domestic life.
That desk, your writing space, is so particular. I don't know how you manage it. It's lovely.
Lyn, thank you for another beautiful essay. I, too, find solace in my dressing room, though the size is more of a small walk-in closet. I put a wayward chair I reupholstered in there and sometimes sit alone, in pure silence for long meditative stretches of time. Being married for twenty-seven years, having a place to retreat to that is not shared or compromised in decor as the rest of our space is comforting.
Some great recommendations there, thank you!.
I love every bit of this, Lyn and especially all the careful details you supply. Since I have an Edwardian house myself I relate hugely to your sense of style and what you cherish most.
Here, I strive towards a kind of Thrift-Store meets Budget Bloomsbury vibe and have a little room of my own (my 'study') for writing. There are cream walls and plenty of light and I marvel at my good fortune every single time I go in there. There are many favourite books, a little bowl housing interesting stones that my sons selected as small children, particular pens and three fat ceramic bowls striped with lopsided swirls of violet and copper. Sometimes the Nag Champa incense still lingers from a previous day. I especially enjoyed hearing what you do with your flowers as I do the same! (And for me, a wild flower bouquet tied with twine is always more welcome than anything too fussy.)
Thank you as always for such intelligent and sensitive writing, I look forward to your posts very much. P.S. I also love the concept of a "morning room" as depicted in Daphne du Maurier's 'Rebecca!'