Listening with all that you are
October 25, 2026
Writers note: Inspired by the WALLPAPER* film series of the same name. The following images are from the home of Mette and Rolf Hay, founders of the Danish design house HAY. Short film by Sebastian Jordahn.
Hay Residence - from Sebastian Jordahn’s WALLPAPER* film
Being still enough to listen
When I heard it described that some people are thermometers and others thermostats, I noted it down in my little 3×5 notebook. I immediately resonated with being a thermometer. I know we’re all a little of both. In my own home for instance I can be the thermostat, the dictator of what goes where. But when out and about I’m always assessing the surrounding temperature. I’m comfortable reading a room. And in doing so I often notice certain things that for some remain invisible. I joke about this way of taking it all in to my husband. It’s a skill and not necessarily one left untapped. It’s handy as a writer, yet if I channeled it differently I think I’d been a fine sleuth or a humble naturalist.
I recall my excitement as a child knowing we would be going over to an aunt and uncle’s house or some close friends or to a new restaurant or to an undiscovered place in the city. What would it be like? Who would be there? How would it feel? At some point I would always slip away to check out the bathroom.
The fascination continues to this day. I love experiencing, if only temporarily, how other folks live. Before it was ever something on television or YouTube, to experience other places you had to travel, be a guest. You had to be invited in. And upon entering, be still enough to listen. This same insight and resonance can be turned inward. The question becomes, is it possible to observe with all that I am? For me, personally, I can’t imagine any other way.
So I wonder about the details. The things that emit tone, mood, aesthetic, and ambiance captivate my senses. Paying attention to a particular shape, the texture of a drape, the color of the floor, the height at which something is hung on the wall, when so-and-so left, or how she couldn’t stop talking paint a particular picture. Set the scene and penetrate the place with feeling.
Because home is both a physical and psychological (emotional/energetic) place, being invited in is pretty special. When I would go to Uncle Ricky’s bbqs with mom, dad, sister, and forty other family members it was about coming into the fray. Not only his home but a space filled with family, history, objects, art, food, two dogs, chaos, and love. Every home he lived in I thought was super cool. I can close my eyes and be in a memory. When I finally moved out and began the era of making my own home it took shape around the stuff that surrounded me—the comfortable, beautiful, quirky, necessary, and inherited.
I watched, intrigued as Rolf Hay, the Danish designer mentioned earlier, presents his vast and eclectic collection of chairs. I figure, if I’m as interested in seeing the things of Mette and Rolf in their exquisite home on the sea, perhaps you may be interested in seeing mine.
It’s not as exquisite nor beside the sea, nonetheless a homage to repose, beauty, and form. The chairs don’t have designer names attached to them though many have iconic lines. All of them, eclectic yet cohesive, are like everything else in my home, second hand treasures. I value each one, the story they tell, and how they continue to lovingly hold my aging body.
Looking at the photos you may see a pattern or why I was not only interested but intrigued to see the inside of this Copenhagen couple’s residence. Their home, from what I saw, was fresh, clear, and friendly. I loved the colors, the sea coming right up to lap the patio’s edge, and the light streaming through the glass tunnel leading up to a second story deck. I appreciated how they embraced negative space, allowing a wall or a swath of floor to breathe, literally. Life and the senses need space to ramble about without obstruction. Said another way, space is generous enough to accommodate life.
‘The painter isn't just creating a painting; the painting is also creating the painter.’ - Julia Dalalba
Hay Residence - from Sebastian Jordahn’s WALLPAPER* film
Sense gates
I’m indebted to the artists and designers and fabricators capable of making a good chair or erecting stained glass for no other than to satiate the senses. They understand the thirst. The experiential gravitas to sit comfortably or be bathed in natural light.
We sense through poetic gates. Ten of them—two eyes, two nostrils, two ears, mouth, anus, urethral meatus, and umbilicus. Women have eleven. The additional being the opening from which all humans emerge at birth. The belly button you could say is the original gate; one that sustains us while in the womb and the root from which future pathways grow.
The umbilicus, or nābhi marmāni as it is referred to in Āyurveda is both a physical and energetic gateway. ‘It can also be translated as center, or the place without fear. [It’s] role is vital as it’s the seat of prāna vāyu, or life force. It is the root of 72,000 nādhis or pranic energy currents in the body. Focusing the breath on the umbilicus allows prāna to go deep within the abdominal cavity and nourish these subtle channels of energy.’* My theory, sensorial speaking, is that the nābhi connects everything from within and is a spacious point where truth is sensed when the eyes and heart, ears and mind, sex and breath interconnect. (What I’ve listed here is just an example of the possible relationships, though it’s all interchangeable.)
These sense gates are thresholds where external experiences enter and internal configurations emerge. We must remember to revere these portals and take good care, for it’s by way of these transit centers that life is digested. Chairs enjoyed. Birdsong detected over traffic. Unconditional love trusted when felt.
Some of my sense gate therapy
The Bill Evans album, Sunday at the Village Vanguard (Fitting as it’s one of the best jazz albums of all time, released in October 1961)
The scent of fresh herbs like hyssop, basil, dill, spearmint, mugwort (fresh or dried)
Hands on the belly as I drift off to sleep
The rattle of dried leaves being blown down the street
Late afternoon shadows dancing on the wall
Yours, Erin
*(Vasant Lad, BAMS, MASc and Anisha Durve, MSOM, DIPL AC, AP, Marma Points of Ayurveda-The Energy Pathways for Healing Mind, Body, and Consciousness with a Comparison to Traditional Chinese Medicine (The Ayurvedic Press, 2008) 166.