Sunroom State of Mind

I say I'm at the "bottom of the pond"  when I'm sad.  It's a phrase I think  I made up (though I may have picked it up somewhere).  The other day I happened to be at the bottom of the pond and this is what occurred to me.

In thinking of things I love - to buoy my spirits - I thought of the sunroom - a room connected to my childhood bedroom by french doors .   Other than an old braided rug and a short, pine bookcase filled with stuffed animals, the room was empty.   But still, every Spring, with a sense of ceremony and import,  I would throw open the french doors and a window or two and sit on the floor in there and make something - a drawing, a craft project, a card.

The sunroom seemed special and I perceived it as one might a vacation home.  There was nothing in that room but what I brought to it and it was my favorite place. My bedroom was like my sanctuary and sometimes a place to hide, but the sunroom was like a vantage point from which I  felt I could look out and love the world. 

The bottom of the pond- the way I use it - really just indicates my current chosen vantage point for looking at life; it's not an actual place - nowhere I've been made to go.   And the sunroom, though an actual place,  also just represents another way of seeing things.    Sadness and Happiness do do not land on us, delivered by unfortunate or joyous events.  They only indicate through which eyes we're seeing life - the eyes of love or the eyes of fear.

I fell in love with the sunroom because it seemed to make me feel good.  But in actuality, it had no power other than that which I gave it; I used it to help me remember how I could see things if I chose.  And how I can now - whether (temporarily) at the bottom of the pond or not.