Rarely do I feel spaciousness in the middle of the week. Today, I do. After I dealt with my new computer and related technical conundrums last week, that part of my life is running smoothly for now. My heart feels shaky and teary because of a lineup of seriously ill people in my life. But after a 5-mile walk, watching the puffy clouds racing through the sky, I can deal with these sadnesses on this sunny day.
That’s just it. Handling situations is easier after a walk. I’ve taken time to hold each struggling person in my heart. I’ve sent sympathy cards and offered help if needed, but cannot take on someone else’s illness. Staying healthy myself lets me be a support when needed.
Today provides ample space for writing and thinking. Spaciousness is scarce unless you make a concerted effort to set your life up, so it generates spaciousness. After my December retreat, the onslaught of regular life has been impressive. How do people do this, I wonder? My life is simple. I’m retired. I live comfortably alone in a small house with some control over occurrences. Family and social ties keep me engaged in the world. Daily maintenance of house and hearth is easy and minimal. Despite this, I stay busy with activities I volunteer for or get invited to.
Life is as full as we make it, they say. True, work and relationships consume life, leaving little room for spaciousness. In the olden days, monastic life allowed for spaciousness to foster spiritual development. The choice has always been, either you give up ordinary life and go into a monastic retreat-like setting, or you fight the uphill battle of finding coveted peace in the middle of a daily - often - chaotic life. When I traveled in India, I learned that the choice was to be a householder or monk/nun. If you wanted to explore inner peace and emptiness, you entered the monastery. The householders, the regular citizens, supported the monastery. I’ve always found the deferred inner peace regular citizens get from supporting someone else in this endeavor, a curious concept. Since then I’ve learned that supporting the arts is a similar deferment. Artists have to carve out spaciousness to let their creativity flow. Making a living as an artist is difficult. I have respect for writers who make their living with writing. I admire musicians, visual artists, movement artists who can survive making their art. It’s difficult. I’ve had to wait until I retired to develop my writing.
Spaciousness is a rare commodity. Spaciousness is necessary for rest, inner peace, processing, and inspiration. Spaciousness is as essential to living as air is to breathing. Making spaciousness a priority requires audacity. As stress diseases and sleeplessness multiply in modern society, as anxiety spikes for elementary and middle school-age children, we must take a serious look at how we can simplify and slow the pace of modern living or many of us will hurl over the precipice like lemmings on the run.
The cumulus clouds are hanging silently in the blue sky, barely moving from my vantage point. The silence in my house is soothing. I can look out at the snowy mountains and see nothing happen. I stretch my body and take a deeper breath. I may just hang in this spaciousness for a while before starting up another task.
Wonderful! Spaciousness is something I seek out and value too.
A beautiful meditation for the day. Solitude, spaciousness -- I crave both. As I recover from a broken foot, this piece feels like balm. Today I will let go the angst, the guilt from lying around as I heal and will settle in with a good book and a cup of coffee.