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The Architecture Of Happiness

Architecture Of Happiness

Yesterday I happened upon a book from the writer/philosopher Alain de Botton, The Architecture Of Happiness it is called. It begin so lyrically that I will start my ruminations here, with de Botton’s first words:

“A terraced house on a tree-lined street. Earlier today, the house rang with the sound of children’s cries and adult voices, but since the last occupant took off (with her satchel) a few hours ago, it has been left to sample the morning by itself. The sun has risen over the gables of the buildings opposite and now washes through the ground-floor windows, painting the interior with a buttery yellow and warming the grainy-red brick facade. Within shafts of sunlight, platelets of dust move as if in obedience to the rhythms of a silent waltz. From the hallway, the low murmur of accelerating traffic can be detected a few blocks away. Occasionally, the letter-box opens with a rasp to admit a plaintive leaflet.

“The house gives signs of enjoying the emptiness. It is rearranging itself after the night, clearing its pipes and crackling its joints. This dignified and seasoned creature, with its coppery veins and wooden feet nestled in a bed of clay, has endured much… [It] has grown into a knowledgeable witness.” 

de Botton’s words, so beautiful I could weep, aroused deep emotion in me, and set loose thoughts — free-radicals for my mind and soul — about architecture in the broadest sense, as the act of giving shape and structure, not to a building, but to a life.

I am deeply interested in this notion that the way we construct our lives matters, that the work of building fully realized lives takes place not only in the inner terrain of our emotional-psychological-spiritual landscape, but also “out there,” in the world, where we have the rarest of opportunities, by virtues of having obtained a human birth — which Buddhism tells us is difficult to attain. Mind you, this is not to suggest that there is anything particularly precious about human life. In the hierarchy of Buddhist cosmology it is low on the totem pole, but all states of consciousness in the universe are available to a human life, from suffering to the liberation therefrom, which we know by many names: enlightenment, satori, samādhi, Heaven on Earth.

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Peony Season

PeoniesPeonies are my favorite flower. I love how they’re wild but also elegant — the two things I most want to be and secretly (or not so secretly) hope I already am.

viaApartment34_1

Well, as it happens, it’s peony season, which is a bit like hunting season but without the blood.

On Memorial Day, while shopping for a potluck barbecue, I saw a tub of the most gorgeous peonies standing just outside the market day. Afraid they’d wilt in the car — and afraid that someone would nab them if we brought them in — we (or, rather, I) resolved to swing back after our cookout and pick some up. When we got back there, all that were left were the dregs. Should have bagged those bouquets when I had the chance (and dared anyone at that cookout to try to take them home).

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The Glorious Home Of Designer Gretchen Jones

Gretchen Jones at Home

Gretchen Jones Couch

My not so guilty pleasure is what I like to call “high-end reality,” the phrase I use to justify my addiction to reality shows like Top Chef, Project Runway and, yes I’ll admit it, Top Model. I love these shows because they showcase people who are not only leading with their talents, but leading with their original vision, attempting to put their unique stamp on the world. These shows enrich my life in ways that “low end reality” shows do not. And yes, I dabble in a little of the low-end too I’m currently addicted to the decidedly low-end (with a heart of gold) Preacher’s Daughter), though I find that on the low-end just a dab will do.

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Interior Designer
Nam Dang-Mitchell’s
Disturbingly Good Blog

Nam Dang-Mitchell Blog

Some things are so good it’s disturbing, like the ridiculously gorgeous and inspirational blog from Interior Designer Nam Dang-Mitchell. Seriously, I could dress myself, dress my house, design my life and figure out what to watch on TV, what music to listen to, basically how to live my life, just by consulting the collage meets video dreamscapes she creates.

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The Glorious Kitchens Of
Windsor Smith

Windsor Smith Kitchen #1.1

Growing up, I underestimated the importance of the kitchen, but after seven year’s of living in New York, a place where kitchens are notoriously small — and where I had the fortune of having two gloriously large ones, and the edifying experience of having one infinitesimally small one — I came to understand what a kitchen is worth and what it means.

The kitchen really is the beating heart of the home. The things you make there bind you to the people who gather in ways that restaurant meals just don’t. I was reminded of the importance of kitchens again over the holidays, when both sides of my family — our mothers, two of our four siblings and three of our five nieces and nephews — gathered around the dinner table in our home. While his younger siblings slept, our three year old nephew sat at the adult table and ate the adult food. It was a first for him, and he recounted it excitedly the following day. He may not remember that evening, but we always will.

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