A Cupboard Under the Stairs

We have a small cupboard under the stairs in our house. It's here I’m writing this to you. In a space no larger than the back seat of a compact car with height no higher than a growing boy. And it’s quite funny actually. Funny because as I sit here writing and typing away, I’m brought back to a rather famous tale of a boy who once lived in the cupboard under the stairs.

(In case you live under a boulder or have been asleep for the past 15 years, I'm referring to Harry Potter).

It’s under here I realize something. As bad as the author described the conditions this particular orphan boy was living in, besides all the horrid things his jealous aunt and foolish uncle made him do, despite all the bullying he had to take from his adopted brother-cousin, he was content.

Not happy. Not thinking too horribly of his situation. Content. Part of the ride of the life he was in even if it felt like he was sitting in the trunk or on top of the back wheel. Content.

The cupboard was his domain. His personal space. His room. All he claimed in life belonged to this 2 by 4 and half foot space. It was better than being without a home. It was better than being alone. It was better than having no one and nowhere.

And when those who tried to make his life a mess became too much, and when he went in there by himself or by force, he could go there, try to silence them and take in the fullness of that which pushes many of us. It was in this room he began to think about things and see things that changed his life. It was here where he received a letter about a school for wizards that he began to dream. This tiny room pushed him to have big dreams.

Dreams.

With the simplicity and nothingness that lie in his space, there was nothing to do but dream. Dream, Wish and Hope.

Which brings me back to sitting here in this small closet under the stairs. It has done the same for me. It has brought me to a point of relaxation, of dreaming and of wonder. One of the main fires in my gut is to write, to share, to fully take in each life experience and to do each often. Yet this rapidly-paced world so big, full of distractions and noise and reality get in the way. But in a space so small it is next to impossible to do so. It makes me content to be in here. It makes me feel the silence. It makes me wonder. 

And it leaves room for only one simple possibility that pushes me. To Dream.

May you find that place that makes the rest of the world feel small. 

May it silence the noise. 

May it fill you with wonder.

May it take you to dream. To dream, to wish, and to hope.