In her memoir, "Eat, Pray, Love," author Elizabeth Gilbert (and actress Julia Roberts in the movie) travels the world to find spiritual fulfillment, but most of us probably conduct our quiet time for meditation or prayer right at home. We all know the designated places to eat and to make love (although I do sometimes eat in the bedroom and hear that some people make love in the kitchen), but where do we meditate or pray?

While enjoying a wine tasting one evening with some realtor buddies, the subject came up, and we were all quite open, even enthusiastic, about how and where we "go within."

"I prefer doing it outside, observing nature," Carol Christiansen said, "and I do it with my eyes open," she added, which surprised me. While Buddha was able to meditate outside under a tree, I lack that capability, finding outdoor sounds and even the breeze distracting.

"I can focus anyplace and anywhere I happen to be in my home," Elisa Bruno-Midilli said. That talent also eludes me. Walter Sadowski said he meditates in his office, just taking a few moments when the need arises. That is something I did years ago when I worked a 9 to 5 job in the most dysfunctional office environment imaginable. I would sometimes retreat to the men’s room, perhaps two or three times a day, go into a stall and repeat the mantra, "relax, relax, relax." This survival technique was abandoned after my boss asked me if I were having some kind of gastro-intestinal problem.

At home, I suspect that many of us have our own special place dedicated to making contact with our inner selves and the universe. I was reminded of this a while back when I was told of a complaint from a seller who said that an agent left her business card on the homeowner’s "altar," which would seem to be a violation of sacred space, and understandable. The agent, in her own defense, said, "Gee, it looked like a regular sideboard to me."

At the height of my spiritual quest some years ago, I explored an endless and seemingly discordant mix of meditative practices. These included listening to new age and gospel music, the sound of an indoor waterfall, and a vibrating chime, all supported with the energies of crystal healing, a very heavy dose of Vipassana meditation and attendance at a then-popular men’s group.

It would have been impossible to engage in such an elaborate other-worldly plan either outdoors or in a public place. So I carved out a space, actually an entire room, as my personal meditation room. I figured that it could double as a second guest room. Then, I started collecting crystals (minerals I called them to the outside world), and I became so obsessive about it, not so much for their metaphysical qualities, but for their sheer physical beauty, that at one point my quiet place looked like an outpost of The Museum of Natural History.

Our first house guest invited to sleep in that room refused. It seems that she had taken a different path to spirituality than I had, one that would classify any association with crystals as witchcraft. To each his or her own, I say.

Today my meditation room, pared of most of its crystals, has certain features that I would recommend for others who want to carve out their own quiet spaces. And the formula can be quite simple. Whether an entire room or a corner of one, the space should be uncluttered and capable of being darkened even in the morning or middle of the day. There should be a system for producing sound, and I recommend that it be through earphones rather than ambient sound for better concentration. Also, depending on one’s beliefs, there might be religious or spiritual symbols or a touchstone of some sort to set the mood.

Some can meditate on a floor mat, but some of us are not that agile, so there should be a chair that is comfortable but not too comfortable, or there is the risk of falling asleep while meditating. What serves as my launching pad as my mind jettisons into altered time is an old wing back chair that has seen better days. I know I should replace it, but what if the back of a new chair didn’t conform just the right way to my own back, and what if the height of the seat was not perfect for me? This chair and I have spent a lot of altered time together to the point where it’s become symbolic of my spiritual growth. So how could I let it go?

The one finishing touch might be some kind of signage for the entrance to the space that reads: "Altered state of consciousness within. Please do not enter." Then, just say "ommmmmmm."

by Bill Primavera

The Home Guru

My favorite room is really not a traditional room at all. It’s a space that measures only 8 ft. x 9 ft., but inch for inch, it’s the most practical multi-use location in my house. It’s my mudroom.

What the decompression chamber is to astronauts and what the hyperbaric chamber is to deep sea divers, so the mudroom is to homeowners. It’s that in-between area that allows one to transition with impunity from one environment that may be dusty, dirty, muddy, or wet, into a cleaner space.

At least that is the purpose it served when we were an agrarian society and kicked off boots muddied from a day in the fields before entering the main house.

Mostly as a lean-to shed or an enclosed porch attached to the back of the house, mudrooms were popular from the 18^{th century to the 1920s. But as our society shifted from farming to other less physical endeavors, mudrooms were banished in back to give way to the foyer in front.}

But in the 1950s, perhaps because Americans started to collect more "stuff" in a more prosperous time following World War II, the mudroom regained popularity, adding storage space to the function of housing coats and shoes. And in the 1970s, it morphed into a combo storage/laundry room when homeowners demanded that washers and dryers make their way up from the basement. But eventually designers questioned the wisdom of combining a place for shedding dirt with laundering, and washers and dryers made their way up to the more convenient second story bedroom level.

Today the mudroom serves many individualized needs of the homeowner and most times is now incorporated into the footprint of the house, taking space from the kitchen and most often situated as an entry from an attached garage. I’ve listed homes where the mudroom has featured a pantry as an extension to the kitchen, an office, a hobby center, a sports equipment storage facility, a potting room for the garden and a changing room for the pool, the latter of which is the case with my mudroom.

When I found my home, it featured a motley mudroom that had been tacked on to the back of the house sometime after 1860. All but abandoned in terms of maintenance, it was just a loosely framed lean-to with a cracked cement floor, and the ceiling was just the raw rafters of the roof, overlaid with wood shingles. There was no insulation and only wood shelves on one wall suggesting that the structure may have doubled as a potting shed.

Because it was the direct access from our driveway to the kitchen, it was hardly an attractive entrance to the house

In my boldest construction project before or since, I chipped away the broken cement and hand-poured a new concrete foundation from a number of mixings in my wheelbarrow. I insulated the walls and created a nice closet and space for a half-bath. Other than the installation of the bathroom fixtures and a new windowed door that replaced one with decaying solid wood, I did all the work myself. And, now, as a semi-retired fixer-upper, my work from long ago gives me a great sense of satisfaction every time I enter or leave the house.

When designing a mudroom and selecting its finishes, it’s well to remember that there’s a reason that the word "mud" lingers in its name. Materials for flooring should therefore be durable, easy to clean and water resistant. This is not the space for wall to wall carpeting, but tile, vinyl, natural slate or porcelain tile are excellent flooring choices.

Wall treatments also should not be delicate, but might be a solid vinyl which can be scrubbed without damage, or paneling that will be more forgiving when visitor lean against the wall to remove their soiled shoes or boots.

One design trick is to use the same cabinetry in the mudroom as used in the kitchen which gives the impression that both rooms are bigger than they actually are.

Many times mudrooms don’t have windows, although it’s ideal if they do. If not, overhead lighting is preferred, rather than wall fixtures that protrude into cramped space or standing lamps that could interfere with cleaning the floor.

A modern mudroom might best include closed storage areas and a large closet organized in a way to separate clothing and equipment for the outside. Lacking a closet, the mudroom can accommodate an armoire for storage purposes.

Considering how many uses the mudroom has today, perhaps it deserves an upgrade in title to the "all-purpose" room.

Confessions of a Compulsive Over-Weeder

By Bill Primavera

The Home Guru

It never fails. I’ll be in a rush to meet a client, dashing to my garage across my parking area, covered with crushed bluestone, and I’ll spy a tiny fleck of green peeking through the gravel. Another weed.  I must stop to pull it out. 

When I bend over, I drop my car keys, my glasses fall out of my breast pocket and, if the weed is deep-routed, like a dandelion, my hands get dirty, requiring that I return to the house to wash them after the deed is done.

Or, I’m coming home very late, dead tired, and I notice that, almost like spontaneous combustion, that nasty grout weed has all but consumed a clump of perennial geraniums.  It’s getting dark but there I am, stooped over again, releasing those delicate flowers from the clutches of that hostile invader.

Worse yet, we might be entertaining guests on our patio and, in my peripheral vision, I detect another unwelcome visitor in a nearby flower bed. Nonchalantly, I’ll push myself out of my glider, perhaps in the middle of a sentence, and conduct an enemy attack without missing a beat. Annoyed, my wife later tells me that I must not have been giving full attention to our guests.

Yes, I confess. I’m a compulsive over-weeder.

When I first discovered the joys of gardening as a youngster, it was all about planting annuals and seeing quick results. But by the time I was in high school, perhaps in dealing with my impetuous nature, I found that I equally enjoyed pulling weeds to help ease those first bouts of post-adolescent anxiety.

My weeding addiction became full blown as an adult when I moved to Westchester from the city and my responsibilities were upgraded from a small square patch of earth in front of my house, where a sickly gingko tree sprang from the concrete sidewalk, to a verdant acre and a half of lawn and garden.

At the same time, I had started a new job and commuted a long distance every weekday to report to a boss who was the “Mr. Hyde” personality of all time. My weeding activity was especially intense during that period. Every time I yanked a weed, it was as though I was vicariously yanking his head bald, even though he was already bald.

Lest one think that I need intervention, I would say that there are good compulsive habits and this might be one of them. For instance, at a time when many parents are concerned about the violence allowed in video games, I might suggest that, as an antidote, they require their children to weed in the garden for an equal amount of time that they would spend on their iPads and wiis playing those games of virtual destruction.  Put the quest for the elimination of villains to practical use, I say.

For adults, rather than considering weeding a chore or even therapy, it can be approached as an art, complete with its own techniques and disciplines, as I first learned many decades ago when I read a joyous book called “The No-Work Garden” by Ruth Stout, sister of the detective fiction writer Rex Stout. And recently, I was reminded of the healing art of weeding when I discovered that the “Chicken Soup for the Soul” series now features an edition “For the Gardener’s Soul” by Marion Owen. In her blog at www.plantea.com, Owen says that weeding can be a pleasant “zen-like” experience, and I agree.

She also writes that regular weeding in the garden is like regular vacuuming in the home. We probably don’t like either chore, but it’s essential to a successful garden, as to a clean home.

Considering that a single weed can produce as many as 250,000 seeds, and that those seeds arrive through a multi-level attack from the air, rain runoff and bird droppings, weeding would seem to be a losing battle. But, there are preventative measures that can help diminish the occasion of weeds sprouting.

Just keep up with the following:

     * Uproot the offenders and place them in the compost pile before they go to seed.

     * Mulch, mulch, mulch. A three to four-inch layer of mulch applied between plants or garden rows can slow down or in many cases prevent the re-growth of weeds.

     * In the spring, after preparing the soil for planting, let it set for seven to 10 days. Then work the surface of the soil with a hoe. This will slice off the newly emerged weed seedlings. If you have time before planting, let the soil rest another week or so and hoe again.

     * Cover the soil for a short while with black plastic, but don’t leave it on for more than a couple of months, because the soil needs air and water to remain healthy

     * Use those vertical barriers, such as wood, metal or heavy plastic edging to prevent grass and weeds from encroaching from lawn to garden.

     And, be mindful of what William Shakespeare wrote: “Sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.”

Bill Primavera is a licensed Realtor® (www.PrimaveraHomes.com), affiliated with Coldwell Banker, and a marketing practitioner (www.PrimaveraPR.com). For questions or comments about the housing market, or selling or buying a home, he can be reached directly at 914-522-2076.

New Life for Split-Levels that Sizzled then Fizzled

By Bill Primavera

The Home Guru

“Nobody in the past 20 years has ever once asked me to design them a split-level home,” says Michael Piccirillo, a Westchester architect who designs homes both for new construction and remodeling. “But a lot of people ask me to re-design already-existing splits for a more contemporary look and more open space,” he added.

While it offered hot sizzle among builders and homebuyers in the 1950s and 1960s, the split totally fizzled by 1970. Nevertheless, splits are a significant part of our residential landscape in Westchester and Putnam Counties, as across the entire nation, because they were built at the height of the post-WWII suburban housing boom.

Most of these homes are still standing, and not many are disguised to hide what they are, unlike raised ranches, now being treated to “re-dos” as mock colonials by adding a few details to the façade like a portico with columns.

That’s harder to do with the lopsided configuration of a split, having one story where the living room, dining room and kitchen reside, and a connecting two-story structure with stairs that drop a half flight in either direction, ascending to the bedrooms and bath above and usually a family room and a garage below. A fourth living space is sometimes added in the basement below the living room, and another bedroom, perhaps a master suite, in the attic space above the living room, again ascending only a half flight of stairs.

But a creative architect can do wonders.

Today people either love or hate split-levels, whether they are already living in one or are in search of a home.

On the love side, the  interesting configuration of levels appeals to some people who sense that they get a lot of house within the footprint with every inch used for living space, including the basement and attic. Some like the idea of ascending only a half flight of stairs to get where they’re going. And still others like the privacy the design affords, allowing parents to be quietly on a different level from their kids’ bedrooms or playroom.

On the hate side, it is felt that the design’s boxy rooms make it difficult to achieve a more open floor plan which is now preferred. The façade is usually dominated by the one-car garage upon which the two-level wing rests. And, while the concept was originally created for slopes, the majority of such homes are built on flat land, requiring that a flight of steps be climbed outside before getting to the front door.

Also, because this style was built as an economic option to the more traditional and more expensive colonials and capes preferred in the preceding decades, many were constructed with little attempt to add detail or charm. For instance, they didn’t have many windows, sometimes featuring a side wall with none at all.

And finally and perhaps more importantly, the kitchen and family gathering space are necessarily separated by this design, which flies in the face of how families want to live today.

Here are some solutions to put the sizzle back into the fizzle of the split-level.

To solve the problem of adding family living to the kitchen, an addition can be built to the back of the house. Piccirillo says that it is easier to do with a split than a ranch, because you don’t have to build as high up to get to the kitchen level as you do with a raised ranch to connect a family room.

To add detail to the exterior, a bump-out might be added to the entrance to give more interest to the exterior and more needed space in the entry. Also, drab exteriors can be upgraded with new finishes, the addition of trim details and additional windows.

So, yes, there is hope for even the homeliest split with a little creative thinking and a good architect.  For those who want to know the possibilities, Picircillo says he offers a free assessment and quote. His website is: www.mpiccirilloarchitect.com, and his office can be reached at 914-368-9838. 

Bill Primavera is a licensed Realtor® (www.PrimaveraHomes.com), affiliated with Coldwell Banker, and a marketing practitioner (www.PrimaveraPR.com). For questions or comments about the housing market, or selling or buying a home, he can be reached directly at 914-522-2076.