When it happens, everything falls away. The moment becomes effortless. You glance up at the clock–it’s hours later, and you haven’t eaten all day. Suddenly, reality rushes back. You, my friend, were just in a state of flow. You may have been painting, writing, playing a video game, or researching on the web, but you didn’t notice the time drift past you.

Mihály Csíkszentmihályi, a psychologist noted for his work on happiness and creativity, describes flow as completely focused motivation–“being completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you’re using your skills to the utmost.”

In Islamic art, the repetition of basic geometric shapes serves to concretely symbolize the infinite. These patterns allow a semblance of order, offering the possibility of infinite growth and a wonderful sense of freedom within the constraints of mathematics and geometry. We can imagine the pattern continuing forever; organically shifting, evolving, transforming yet still adhering to the laws of its creation. These patterns are intentional, created with purpose and foresight.

We weave our lives in the form of patterns– our habits. But do we create our habits with intention, purpose and foresight, or do we fall into repetitive patterns without even noticing? I often wonder at how quickly I establish patterns in my relationships.

We are often looking for more ways to feel connected to nature, but with the kind of nature we like, the kind that pleases us. At home, we work hard to keep the bugs out but let the sunlight in. The potted plants can stay as long as the dirt doesn’t get too dirty. There is a constant tension between the desire to keep nature out and the desire to commune with it. Perhaps that is because we tend to build homes in a way that is so out of tune with nature.

This is a prototype called Beast designed by Neri Oxman at MIT. Resembling a kind of praying mantis, it is made from eight materials of varying flexibility and is designed to hug your body, reacting to each movement.

When I Skype with friends these days, I find myself looking at my own face more than I look at theirs. I wouldn’t call it narcissism, and I would be suspicious of anyone who denied they did the same. I think it’s rooted in the eternal desire to know ourselves, to understand ourselves. This made me think about the importance of personal reflection in our lives, and in our homes, and the role that mirrors have played in the evolution of human consciousness.

We can look at just about anything with just our eyes, but to witness ourselves, we need something else. A pool of water, a camera or a mirror; knowledge of our own face always comes from an external object.

This is a design blog that focuses on the relationship we have with our homes, and how this relationship is a reflection of the relationship we have with ourselves.

This is a project of Larisa McShane & Associates, a design firm based in Villanova, Pennsylvania. Our design strategy is to discover each client’s subconscious visual and spacial preferences, to create for each client a space that is their own sanctuary. We create spaces that nurture, heal, and invigorate lives.