Thursday, January 15, 2009


Do you know that feeling that comes over you when what you knew in mind only you now know in the marrow of your bones?

And then you notice everywhere what before you might have only been able to carry on a discussion about, the meaning going no deeper than words.

This has happened to me with Space.

The presence of physical space often seems to mirror the space in my mind-- how free or guarded I feel at the time. Sometimes it seems it can even be more than just the reflection, but the cause of my state of mind. And so I find myself guarding my space as closely as I guard my time.

I'm not just thinking of physical space, though, but space in time as well. The moments between moments, the transitions. We don't talk about it often in the West, but we feel it.

We feel it when we hear a piece by a great pianist who knows space. He does not rush the notes, but lets each sound hover for a moment, filling the air until it resonates with our very beings, and we feel it. And then he holds that space even a bit longer, until the anticipation of the next note swells. We feel our bodies and our hearts pulse in time to this rhythm. Without the space, there is merely a melody moving along, something we perceive, but it plays across the surface never stirring our depths.

A dancer who holds the pose so achingly still for that moment, to pull you into the dance until you no longer can tell where you end and she begins. She knows the space she leaves is as much the dance as any of the choreography.

The eloquent speaker who delivers his words powerfully and meaningfully, but knows it will be in the silence between words where we will cry with him, laugh with him, believe in him.

Even breathing leaves space. We do not simply inhale or exhale, there is a space between. Without that space breathing becomes labored.

Space allows everything around it to somehow become fuller, allows it to...ripen.

And so it was thinking on space that my day opened itself to show me its space, its moments between moments, those times when nothing is obviously occuring, and nothing is obviously not occuring, but the moment is pregnant with the potential of what can occur, yet still harbors residue of what has occured.

Here is one of those times, the early morning when Noelle's toys are all waiting on their shelves, the first sunlight streaming in the windows across them -- it is looking at this that space opens up inside me, clouds of thought breaking. You can almost feel the play that waits for little hands, and yet there are still the remains of the silence of early morning twilight. A moment between moments.

Space to breathe.

Space to feel.

Space to be.

No comments:

Post a Comment