The space inbetween breath




(the general word for all that we do which feels important but may not be as important as we think)

The space where sweet nothing happens. Where it’s silent.

Past and future flow into the same river called present.

The space where there is no breath. The precipice of death.

A place where thoughts flow all around but never touch you.

The place where we do nothing. Where we practice non-action. We are active but not busy with all those activities. Non-action is the natural everyday waves of the ocean; the ripples in the lake; the growth of a tree each year; a flower blooming; a spider building its web.

Purposeful action not movement for movement’s sake, this is the space inbetween. This is what happens as we’re busy filing the days, weeks, months.

Everybody hold on, we’re going to the space inbetween.

Immersing yourself into the space inbetween is uncomfortable. In the space inbetween, you confront yourself – raw and undistracted. In the land of inbetween nothing of any importance happens and yet everything happens here. Everything of normalcy, banality, every day.

The space inbetween is place-based. There is no place where the identical is happening. Patterns take shape but are tinged with its own culture. Each location of inbetween is different. Even if you didn’t notice it. In this space it’s all different and yet feels the same like coming home after a long trip.

The space inbetween is sweet like a honeysuckle; cold like someone standing behind you; warm like your favorite blanket pulled around you; sour as if biting into a lemon and understanding truth does not care for your trivialness.

The space in between people can be much different. Friction. Cold as a winter storm; deep as a canyon; numbing; impenetrable. In this land of inbetween the mind is blank, full of emotion and worry. Yet words are incomprehensible, unknown. Communication is scrutinized and armed. In the space inbetween people, judgements and pacts are made. Opinions harden here. Anxiety, fear and animosity overfill the basin here.

In the space in between common ground whispers. In the space we create, conflict manifests and scratches. The space in between holds purpose, heart and connection. Within a conflict, I am refusing the space in between that unites you and me. With planted feet I storm your space with my position so that my wall of fortitude may remain stable.

When I move with flexible curiosity, interests are seen and we enter the space inbetween. Here, we learn from each other with heart. We build fires and sing songs. We forget the itch that scratched or why it even itched.

The space inbetween can be filled with assumed hate or heartfelt compassion. The former creates a cold iceberg where anxiety, fear, worry, anger are kept for safety. In the latter, the space inbetween becomes a place of growth, love, curiosity.

Remaining in the space inbetween two people with heartfelt compassion is not trivial nor difficult. We’re already here if we choose to be for we are the ones that form the space inbetween. Our colliding interests provide the celebration of curiosity. But our positions are what drive the stakes holding us where we stand. Inflexible the space inbetween will turn rancid and spoil.

Moving forward in the land of inbetween we must visualize the beautiful implications of the space that exists between us, between moments, between nothing and busyness. In this place, we stretch our roots deep and wide finding connection between and amongst us all. Here is joy. Here is song. It is made up of color and vibrancy as we enjoy simple pleasure and wonder in all around us.

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