I've long been a fan of daydreaming. Meditation? Eh. But daydreaming... letting my mind wander... surprisingly, it settles me. There's power in meandering thoughts. There's power in giving ourselves the nod of approval to sit and seemingly do nothing.
During the past week or so I've made an effort to sit up in my room, alone, in the afternoon for a spell. It never lasts long, and often my quiet time ends up with a bed full of checker boards and Uno cards and arms and legs, but simply making an effort to have the space - the room - to stretch and breathe and daydream makes all the difference in my attitude.
In the same respect, I love our room. I love the tranquility of sheer curtains and the comfort, as well as familiarity, of a handmade quilt. Way back when Lucas and I were getting ready to share an apartment, the only hesitation I had in the very back of my mind was if I'd be able to share a bedroom... {I'm not sure I have ever even mentioned that to him!} but luckily he has always been the most patient, loving man, and easy going in terms of decor and whatnot. He's long understood and put up with my love of our bedroom, in whatever house we are in. The need for quiet. The need for space. The need to quietly move from sleep to wakefulness {that, unfortunately, has gone out the window with having little ones about...}
And while my children might not understand that forcing the alarm clock is not a pleasant way for mommy to wake up, they do understand that our bedroom is for snuggles and daydreaming and rest. Even if sometimes they bounce and we give airplane rides with our feet, and we tell silly stories or jokes, for the most part there is much conversation and secrets told and dreams shared. It is a place where together or separate, we worship and delight in dreams.
You need room to do that. You need space. You need to give yourself permission to do nothing but let the mind wander, and the dreams to surface, and the willingness to follow their lead.