THE SPACE IN BETWEEN
The past several weeks away have been revealing. Over July and August, I decided to wait to see what path would open up.
During this pause, I asked myself the big questions:
Who am I?
What do I offer?
How can I help?
I’ve been fully engaged in this creative life for only ten years - out of soon to be 69. As I settle in, am learning that there are phases and cycles in a creative life.
Most of the time, my default mode is to engage in several projects that I quite easily juggle. I am, as I have been told by those who know me well, an idea machine. I adore the spark. I am fundamentally curious, and enjoy the discovery process, and connection all the dots to make something new. Yet, I need to rest, like everyone else. But my question is always : what do I do when I rest?
For several weeks, I sat back and listened. I listened to the messages that took the shape of people with whom I had conversations, strangers who chose to tell me their stories, and opportunities to engage in different ways. I took the time to do some great reading, I took walks and swam, and I listened.
One critical insight showed up in the form a link to a podcast, sent by a friend. The podcast was called Linking to the Afterlife; the episode in question was entitled The Space in-between: Ready to Step in? The hosts described the architecture of our lives as a chain of experiences linked by nodes of awareness. These nodes represent moments in which we are intensely aware, here and now. They are sometimes described as moments of flow, during which we are completely committed to the present moment.
The topics of discussion in the podcast were broad, but one particular topic captivated me: how do we navigate the space between the moments of true awareness, of intense mindfulness, the moments during which we are lead by our soul?
This question really touched upon an issue that is the challenge of every creative person. When we are engaged in a creative process, we tap into the essence of ourselves. The world around us, the daily concerns, the niggling worries, fall away, and we settle into a bubble of clarity and focus that comes from another place. Whether we paint, draw, dance, play music or write, the doing what we do connects us to ourselves in a profound way. I believe this is why creating is so healing. It is a remembering, not only of who, but of what we are.
But we are human, so being in that state is temporary. We walk away from the desk, the studio, the instrument, and pick up our everyday lives. In the space in between, we worry about whatever it is we worry about. We regret what we didn’t worry about enough, and we struggle to make it all work.
How is it that the space in between feels so long? How can it be that the bubble doesn’t define itself in time? There are theories aout this of course. Metaphysics and quantum physics have much to say on such matters.
However, as a lowly human, my question is much simpler: how can I transfer what I learn in one time and place to the other? How can I carry the intense mindfulness of the bubble into more of my life in between? How can I be intensely in the center of what I am experiencing more often? How would it be if I accepted entirely what I am experiencing, even if it is painful and difficult? What would happen? How can it happen and what would it change?
Usually, the answer way to change is practice.
To build a path to something different, we establish a practice. We show up for ourselves in our bubble of choice, and open ourselves to whatever comes up for us that day. Over time, again, with practice, we learn to find the keys that take us to the place where we learn, and we learn to carry the lessons to the path in between.
With lots of practice!