In astronomy, for every two objects in space in orbit, there exists a period of time in which both objects are at their closest they will ever be in orbit. This is known as their "periapsis". In any relationship you have with someone, there exists a periapsis. For example, the periapsis with you and a stranger in an airport is bright and brief, whereas in a deep friendship, there is a period where circumstances will bring you the closest, and while the relationship is still strong, it will not be as close at it was then.
Sometimes, some orbits are so particularly strong that they can pull and change the direction of the orbit of the other planetary object. But regardless, every orbit, relationship. all have their periapsides (pl.).
Your room should be your sanctuary. You should adore everything inside it without anything unnecessary. Why have a cluttered desk? Productivity and inspiration comes with only the things you need. Your bed should be a place that you only sleep in, try avoiding it during the day. Make it worthy of the moment you slip between the sheets, like a treat at the end of the day, a dessert and the end of a meal. Light should be natural and mirror the time outside. Artwork should be the first thing you see when you wake up. Your clothes hanging neatly on hangers, candles burning and books stacked, both the ones you re-read obsessively and the ones you probably won’t ever get around to.
“For the world to be interesting, you have to be manipulating it all the time.”
— Brian Eno
“When you are truly in the elegant state of creation, you are no body, no thing, no time — you forget about yourself. You become pure consciousness, free from the chains of the identity that needs the outer reality to remember who it thinks it is.”
The bigness of the world is redemption. Despair compresses you into a small space, and a depression is literally a hollow in the ground. To dig deeper into the self, to go underground, is sometimes necessary, but so is the other route of getting out of yourself, into the larger world, into the openness in which you need not clutch your story and your troubles so tightly to your chest. Being able to travel both ways matters, and sometimes the way back into the heart of the question begins by going outward and beyond. This is the expansiveness that sometimes comes literally in a landscape or that tugs you out of yourself in a story.
∆ Rebecca Solnit, The Faraway Nearby