March 2025
It started last summer with the drafting table.
My 89-year-old neighbor was sorting through items in his garage and rediscovered an antique drafting table he once used for his photography and design work. It had a cast iron pedestal base (painted saffron yellow) and a large mahogany-stained top, which he custom-built.
“I have another one in the house,” Joe said in his cheerful Southern accent, his eyes sparkling behind a pair of round black glasses. “Would you like it?”
And so it was that the drafting table with the yellow base found its way into my attic studio/home office.
It sat against the wall in two separate pieces as I waited for inspiration. I already had a desk, plus two side tables and a bookshelf—there wasn’t an obvious place for it. Perhaps if we cut down the top? I thought.
But the fall was busy and the winter was hard and inspiration didn’t come.
I considered selling it or giving it away to someone who could make better use of it. But when Joe passed away last month, I couldn’t imagine parting with it.
So, one snowy Saturday, Steve helped me set it up. I slid the furniture around in my sock feet, trying to imagine the space differently.
Because when you’ve had something a certain way for a while, it can be difficult to see it any other way.
This is true in teaching, writing, and creative work. It’s true in how we view our calendars and schedules. What we think we have time for. We limit our thinking to what we’ve seen and done before, what we think is possible. And we don’t always give ourselves permission to rethink, rearrange, and reevaluate.
As Joe once said:
“Love and enjoy what you are doing and the way you’re doing it, but keep your head up and your eyes open. Don’t be the last one to see and embrace new potentials.”
I stood back and assessed.
Rotated the desk. Removed the folding table. Rearranged the bookshelf. Floated the drafting table in the middle of the room, then nestled it in the corner.
I sat down in my chair to see how it felt from here. My eyes drifted to the aqua mason jars with fistfuls of brushes lined up against the white wall. The afternoon sun glinted through the casement windows, a beam of light stretching across the work surface. Perfect for painting, I thought. And I knew it felt right.
Sometimes, you don’t know what’s possible until you start playing with ideas. Until you ask yourself, “What if?” and take the time to step back and look at things from a different perspective.
What do you want to reimagine in your life or work right now? What do you want to reinvent or rearrange or reshape?
Sometimes it takes moving all the pieces around and around again to truly see things in a new light.
I hope this encourages you to do just that. ✨
