After I got the curtains straightened out, and made the bed up nicely, and finished crocheting the twine rug and deciding exactly where to put it, and added a couple of quick little art projects, still the room seemed to be missing something.
I can't breathe in here yet, I told myself.
I want to feel grounded and centered in here, and wholly myself, but there's nothing here that connects me to my past.
This isn't surprising, because a few years ago I did a Really Big Purge, and gave away or sold almost everything of mine that I didn't physically need. It was the right thing to do at the time; all the objects I love are engraved in my heart, and I don't really need to keep the things themselves...they can be "sent ahead to heaven" where rust does not consume.
But that left me with few possessions from way back in my past. I made a search around the house, and found a couple of things. They didn't quite fit in the room, either, but I left them in overnight.
Then I realized that a painting I had hanging in my office, would now work really well in the bedroom. It is a painting I made a few years ago to remind myself of one of my favorite spots on earth, back where my roots started. I took the picture and put it up in the bedroom, and it fits in just right. Actually, it ties the whole room together: it has some of the curtain and bedding colors in it, and the homemade frame echoes other elements in the room. I put this painting on the emptiest wall, which makes it stand out, wherever I happen to be in the room.
After getting that settled, I went on to finish the spring cleaning in there, which I began a couple of weeks ago. I washed the windows, vacuumed the screens, wiped down the shelves and baseboards, and finished with a quick vacuuming of the carpet. Those seem like small things, but they do make a big difference, perceptually.
Now I can breathe in there.