White Space

It provides breathing room.

At the end of my sprint intervals this morning, our coach told us to lie flat on our backs with our feet up to encourage reverse blood flow so as to release the lactic acid that can build up.

I did it, running through troubling e-mails received early and the packed day ahead.

He said to breathe deeply, hand on stomach, in and out, slowly.

I did it, composing return e-mails I wouldn’t send and trying to manage certain unmanageable relationship dynamics.

He said try to clear your head of everything that you have to do today and just breathe for the next few minutes.

I did it, and tears came. This is the problem with white space.

Shit comes up.

There’s really no other way to say it.

We drink water to clear out the toxins and flesh out our systems. We exercise to keep our bodies fit. Try to eat well to stay healthy. Think positive for a better outlook.

And all of this (when I’m doing it) helps cut through a lot of emotional and mental clutter. But not all of it!

There are loops of grief and the complicated dynamics of family and the deep desires that are too big or crazy or seemingly absurd to express. There are deep disappointments disguised as anger, fed by fear and only overcome through love.

There’s a lot of stuff that cannot be exercised, eaten or thought away.

However, despite ample personal evidence of this, exercise is usually my first approach. Chocolate is a very close second topped with heaps of overthinking, analysis and strategic planning.

But here’s the deal.

It never works. Not with the hard stuff.

White space is essential.

Without it, Life is indecipherable.

There is no counterpoint. No room. No perspective. No way to see.

It’s the negative space that makes art compelling.

It’s the empty bandwidth that allows radio frequencies to broadcast without interference.

It’s the margins, the gutters, the kerning between characters, the leading between lines, the space on a page that allows the story to emerge.

So, why is it so often missing from our lives?

It’s not hard to find the time. It doesn’t actually take much. It’s not complicated. Doesn’t require a degree or class or guru.

We stay away because the idea that white space is the answer to our most troubling issues or problems seems absurd, unreasonable, illogical!

It’s hard to trust the mystery. The unknown.

It’s seems woo-woo.

But there’s something about rising above the mental chit-chat, the emotional analysis, the fast forward solutions and the din of how it should be that is a huge relief.

The fear going in is that you give up control.

The gift coming out is that you gave up control. Without the resistance of fear or anger or resentment or guilt or whatever, there is nothing to cling to for safety.

Just white space. It feels a little free-fall-y at first. But after a couple of minutes it just feels free. Even when the tears come, they fall, but not with the sting of attachment.

More like rain. That waters the wide-open field of daisies.