The gift of space

Space. This word has popped into my head a lot lately. This has officially become a year of finding space. And if there is no space to find, cultivating it myself.

In a world that has become so chaotic and cluttered, space has become a scarce commodity. Space in our external environment but also our internal one. Perhaps it has quietly been my mission my entire life to cultivate space but these past few months have felt like a loud call to action.

In ways, I always knew this year was about space. But I envisioned space to look and feel different for me. I already had planned what I was going to fill this space with. Rather than letting myself savor in the vastness of the space I found, I preemptively was trying to get rid of it. My mind had no frame of reference on how to hold space without attempting to fill it up.

I think that is human nature. To fill up the spaces in and around us. Literally by stuffing our bodies with food and our homes with material objects. Also, figuratively by scheduling out every minute of our day and never turning off the constant chatter of our monkey minds. Space sounds nice but feels more than uncomfortable in reality.

If you have ever been on a boat and lost the view of the shoreline, only able to see the sea stretching to the horizon in every direction. The enormity of the space engulfs you. Or if you have ever stood on top of a mountain summit, your gaze traveling miles in every direction. Unable to process the scale of the space in front of you. These moments are jarring for our minds, bodies and spirits.

Our day to day lives are filled to the brim with so much. For some this constant action through a cluttered world feels necessary and good. The distraction of life moving in every direction at once has become so natural to our being that we believe it’s the only way to live.

I don’t know if we are designed to ever truly thrive while living this way. The current density of life is breaking us. We need space. But needing something and being willing to sit in the discomfort that it creates enough to let it change us are two vastly different things.

I am still a work in progress when it comes to being able to create space without quickly filling it up. It is against everything I know. And more so it is against everything everyone around me knows. Not only have I had to struggle with my own discomfort but I’ve also had to witness the discomfort I inadvertently cause in others.

First of all, I have had to stop myself over and over from trying to fill every minute of my day. The drive to squeeze out every second of every day feels like part of my deepest marrow. Thankfully, I’ve been working on this for years now. But it still hasn’t made it smooth all the time. The urge to be productive with my time haunts me daily. I have had to learn to hold space for myself without making any effort to do something about it.

In many ways, I imagined that I would be able to build a foundation for a beautiful new life as soon as I had the space of this year. I thought that as soon as I let my old life die, my new life would begin. But it turns out there is an entire season between death and rebirth. And what is that season for? Space, of course!

When you demolish an old home, you can’t build a new structure on top of the rubble without causing problems. First, you must clear the land to create space for a sturdy foundation. I had no idea that this step would be required of me. That I would have to pick up piece by piece, the bits of my old life and move them out of the way before rebuilding.

This is effortful work that is often unnoticed. The demolition of one life is obvious and the raising of new walls is celebrated but nobody is cheering you on as you clear the space for the later to begin. All they are doing is asking when the walls are going to start going up.

As necessary as the clearing of space is, it is quiet work that requires immense patience. Carrying away the fragments of my past life gifted me time to observe and grieve it all. By doing this work, the land my new foundation will be built on will be level and sturdy. The space will feel right.

I could have raced to level the land without actually clearing the space. This would have allowed me to plant a foundation for a new life quickly, but that is not what I needed. I knew I needed space. However, I didn’t just need space, I needed to learn to hold space well.

To be able to hold space well, for myself and for others around me, is all I am being called to do right now. Not to fill it with tasks and things. Not to use it productively. Not to rush around and accomplish it all. Just to let it overwhelm my mind body and spirit in the best of ways.

Preparing to build the most beautiful new life is a lot slower process than I ever imagined. This clearing of the land, the learning to cultivate space and not rush to fill it, has been a privilege and a gift. Space, clear and clean space, is something this world could use with a little more of.

When I struggle to hold space for myself or another in this life I will imagine standing on a mountain top. Witnessing the vast space stretched before me. Taking in the awe that overwhelms my being. Knowing that I would never desire or crave to fill it with anything because it is already exactly what it is meant to be.

Perhaps we all need a little more space around us to allow ourselves to fully bloom when the time comes.