#67: The Table
How much of an object’s importance relies on the place in which it resides?
It may be hard to make out at first, but today’s blog post is about this glorious table, the perfect size for spreading out all my study materials.
This table is one of those mundane objects. Everyone will have one in their house that they pass by and use every day, not really considering it, just using it.
I certainly have used this table, but I have also sat here considering it (and not just as a moment of procrastination from my many essays).
There is just something rather wonderful about sitting in the dining room of my home back in Suffolk. I sit next to the floor-to-ceiling window, which is covered up on the bottom half with our makeshift insulation to deal with having such a large, single-glazed window in chilly England. I sit here for the sun, which shines brightly and directly through the south-facing window, filtered through the plastic covering (more makeshift double-glazing). Perfect lighting for a perfect table.
I spread out my books across the large, makeshift table top. It was made from an old door and placed on top of a smaller table to accommodate our eclectic family at Christmas, and hasn’t moved since. Can you tell there’s a common theme of makeshift styles in my house? The fact that this table has previously existed as other objects just adds to its wonderfulness in my eyes.
It is a place of thought and study and social media scrolling, accompanied by regular coffee drinking. And amongst all this mental work the sun graces everything with warm, natural light.
When I glance to my right I meet, through the blinding sunlight, a miniature forest, a garden going wild. Trees arch over from the edges, protecting and obscuring, dappling the light with their rich green leaves. Birds fly around and over, chattering away, while cats pad across the patio.
This whole thriving world of nature is to my right, through the glass, full of birds and cats and newts and frogs and ants and worms and hedgehogs and who knows what else. To sit on this side of the glass, but with the back door open to let in the air and the sound, the two worlds merge, inside and out. I can sit and study and write and think and create, inspired by the outdoor sounds and the sunlight as I work at this table.
I find, when I sit here, that I can happily work for hours, refilling my coffee cup regularly from the kitchen behind me. Why? Partly due to the room. The situation of the object always plays a vital role in the importance we attach to it. There are the sounds heard only in a plant-filled, overgrown garden situated in a village in the countryside, let into the house through the open backdoor. And it is at this table that I experience this while working.
It is a wide, dark green painted expanse of flat space, providing an area on which to spread numerous books, pieces of paper, and sometimes a cat. When studying, working, thinking, or simply enjoying the present moment, space is essential. Its physical openness allows the mind to open and wander, just like the physical notes of written ideas spread out on the table. What a beautiful joy and change of pace and space to come home for the holidays and study. I will miss it, as I am driving back to Durham today. But I will look forward to that sunny space to spend my summer in, spread out on the grand green table.
