Hello, my captive audience. I'm thrilled to take a moment out of my day and write to you between fragrant sips of black coffee - dark roast, thank you very much!
When is the last time you thought of your happy place? Even better, when is the last time you spent an afternoon or longer there? It's interesting to me that one's "happy place" is often some distant, idyllic location that the person stumbled upon during a once-in-a-lifetime vacation. A hammock on a beach. A mountaintop view. A balcony overlooking bustling streets below. For a few fleeting moments, they found peace. Freedom from care and concern. Sights, smells, and sounds that floated through the person's senses and into the caves of lasting memories. It was the absence of pressure, the relaxed prefrontal cortex (sorry, I'm a nerd), and the sensory stimulation that created that longed-for-ever-since destination: the happy place.
I'm grateful that I didn't encounter my happy place on my worldwide travels. Nope. My happy place awaits me, 100 feet from my front door. It's in the upper level of a barn, and my family and I affectionately call it The Loft. And why is it my happy place? Well, when I walk through the door, connect my Spotify playlists, and sit down to a project, I find freedom. Pressures lifted. Creativity ignited. And time slips away. My family knows that Loft time means I probably won't hear the first time they call my name because I'm "in my head" and joyously swirling in ideas. To me, that's bliss.
Before I go, I'll share a few pictures of one of my life's greatest blessings, The Loft. It truly is my happy place. Where is yours?
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