Essay 08— Hide Something
I’m touring a beautiful home.
As I venture through, I am clocking all the details. I observe the baseboards, the architectural shade pockets, the transitions between materials. As I continue through, I’m noticing the details of the wall paneling. I’m imagining the way they might have detailed it in their drawings, all the documentation they’d have needed to hand over to make it come to life... The incredible grain of the wood.
And then–
I notice something. The slimmest reveal line. An almost imperceivable gap. Almost mislabeled in the mind as a shadow. Fitting in with the paneling just so.
A hidden door, I conclude.
It was so good it made me question whether or not my mind was playing tricks on me.
What is back there?
My brain races through all the possibilities. Is it a speakeasy? A powder bath? A tunnel?
Suddenly, this home got a whole lot more interesting.
By this point I’m nearly one with the paneling. I’m peering at it closely, brushing along the reveal. Really making sure that my mind isn’t playing tricks. I give it a soft press and it pops open.
The anticipation is killing me.
As it opens, I hear a familiar hum. Familiar, yet disappointing. I hope it isn’t so.
As the door opens wider it reveals the HVAC equipment and my soul is shattered.
I haven’t felt heartbreak like this since high school. I felt betrayed. The seeming promise of delight went unfulfilled. My mind had conjured up visions of what could’ve been.
And I began to examine why I found myself so disappointed. Because there’s an argument to be made that I should be thrilled.
After all, they’ve done a magnificent job in hiding the guts of the home. The paneling was exquisitely executed. They even included soundproofing to deaden the hum of the unit.
Unfortunately, as adults, we don’t get to experience the same wonder that was lurking around every corner as children. If we’re lucky, we catch a glimmer of it a few times a year.
Why does it seem like the further into adulthood we get, the less surprise we’re able to experience?
The natural systems and explanations our brains build remove nearly all measures of surprise we may experience day-to-day.
Predictability is stability.
Stability is safety.
All predictability and no whimsy makes Johnny a dull boy.
Even things like birthdays, which once used to be a symbol of great surprise and delight often become just a day marked in a calendar.
So we find ourselves seeking surprise in other ways. We do it through travel, art, movies, music. The list goes on. There’s a reason that speakeasy culture exists. We all want to feel like we’re in on some little secret, big or small. We’re all constantly looking for symbols and expressions of the hope that this world has something to offer which has yet to be revealed.
And it might sound counterintuitive, but as life becomes more and more predictable, wonder must become more and more intentional.
The anticipation was far more exciting than the reality.
The layers of design reveal themselves through time. Just when you thought you understood, a new angle reveals something entirely different.
Moments like this are incredibly valuable. So valuable in fact, that many might even classify them as priceless.
And underneath it all, it’s not really about a room being hidden. It’s the almost imperceivable nod the home gives back to the one who notices. A tiny badge of honor. It gives the home layers in ways that keep it exciting for decades to come. They might take your guest years to discover on their own. Though, I bet it’ll probably be one of the first things you show them.
Just because we’ve experienced more life, and continue to every day, doesn’t mean that we don’t still crave that sense of wonderment and discovery. For this reason, I don’t believe that secret rooms will ever go out of style. They remind us that the world hasn’t finished revealing itself just yet.
And maybe for one brief moment, adulthood loosens its grip, and we’re allowed to experience the same curiosity we did when we were eight years old.
