A square-patterned duvet cover
Emptiness, empty space, void, a clear slate. These are key concepts to me.
Over the last twenty years or so, I’ve purchased one variant or another of the exact same duvet cover. It’s made out of 100% cotton, it’s got pressure buttons to close it at the bottom, it’s covered in a coloured square pattern.
You can likely still find it at your local Swedish furniture company. No, actually, you can for sure. I just got a new set. It’s called Brunkrissla.
I’ve probably purchased ten of those over the years. Grey, blue, beige, green, orange… Not that they wear out, but I’ve moved to many places over the last twenty years. I’ve lived in five countries, visited twenty more, slept in countless rooms, on so many sofas, surrounded by people I knew very well some times, had met the same day other times.
Bedding is not something I usually carry with me. A sleeping bag maybe. Even that is not a constant.
But I know that Ikea duvet cover works for me. When I slip underneath it, after a long day, I know it will cover my feet, feel soft on my bare skin, fall off nicely on my body side and prevent any cold stream from sneaking in.
There’s beauty in simplicity. Even more than that, simplicity creates space for what really matters, for what life throws at you, for what’s coming up tomorrow.
My uncle Jacques once taught me a lesson, many years ago.
He was telling me about the new boots he had just purchased, and how simple and easy the experience had been. “I just went to Decathlon (a French sports mall brand) and purchased the exact same pair of boots as I’ve been wearing for the last ten years. I went in the store, found the model, grabbed my size, checked out and I was done.”
He was obviously thrilled by the lack of friction the whole experience had required. I looked at him in dismay, wondering at that time why on Earth would anyone be satisfied by wearing the same shoes over, and over, and over again.
Today, I understand.
He had found what fit him. Not only what felt comfortable to his feet hour after hour, day after day, year after year. But he also loved the experience. He didn’t care about a new pair of shoes, he just wanted the same thing that worked once the old pair was too damaged to keep going.
Today, I understand the beauty of time freed by not wandering in a new mall, trying multiple items, wondering which one is going to start aching after a few hours, which one will fall apart after a few months of abuse, which one will squeak on wooden floors. This is time freed to do what matters. Even if what matters is sitting in a comfortable chair at the wee hours of the morning, the world slowly awakening around me, a hot, smoking cup of freshly brewed coffee in my favorite vessel, my fingers running on the keyboard with a deep sense of pleasure, achievement and satisfaction.
“I have time”.
Wherever the wind carries me, I’ll likely find a blue warehouse with big, bright yellow signage, and a square-patterned duvet cover.
Even when it eventually gets discontinued, I’m confident the lesson I learnt about my uncle’s boots, about the importance of freeing schedule, space and mind for what really matters, will have proven times and again to be my super power.