The Space Between
I've been thinking a lot about transition lately. I've now been living in Boulder, Colorado a month with a trip to Los Angeles and Arizona thrown in there. Next week I'm in San Francisco. When you're a wanderluster it sometimes feel like life is in constant transition, ever changing. Somehow, though, I've realized how resistant I am to embracing the space between solid ground.
In any moment, we can imagine ourselves swinging on a trapeze bar, rocking back and forth between the past and future as we hang here in the present. To leap to the next bar hanging from the sky, we need to trust in a combination of memories and faith in what's to come. In vision and nostalgia. And then, when we're ready we leap.
I'm someone who is programmed to love taking leaps. When life opens up, I like to say â€˜yes.' but what I'm realizing is I'm such a jumper, I often forget to savor the space between the bars. The time between the now and the next when you're hovering in the air and your landing is uncertain. Your grip free. Your heart pounding. The truth is, this space of unknowing packed with fear, is just as important as the time swinging on the bars.
So here I am, in Boulder, between so many trapeze bars. I've leapt from one community into a new and unknown one. Left my favorite neighborhood cafe, yoga students, ritual walk and daily writing spot in the park to build new rituals. Jumped from a place where the memories of a past partner were still worn into the city's sidewalks into a complete unknown about new love.
This week I ran to a trail and hiked up to sit on a beautiful big red rock solo (pictured here). I decided I needed to get up high to check in with my feelings of hanging mid-air. I let the anxiety about unknowns sink in, took a ton of deep breaths and accepted that I'm not on the next bar yet. I took the leap and now I need to rest in the in-between.
It's liberating to move consciously in this space. To acknowledge it takes time to land. In the meanwhile I'm flying in the sky, working hard to keep my heart and eyes wide open.
This transitional gap is also the richest space in music and yoga. I've been trying to cultivate a conscious relationship with the flow between asana instead of rushing from one pose to the next. The space between the solid chorus of a song is where the story lies.
So my kula, I ask you this week to look at how you're relating to the in-between. The scary, uncertain and exhilarating gap between the leaps?
See you next week from San Francisco,