I used to keep an empty wooden frame on my wall, above my work table. It was empty on purpose -- not because I didn't have anything to put into it, but because it was holding space for work as yet unmade. The painting not yet painted, the essay not yet written.
For a while now I've been living within that frame. I've been holding space, getting reacquainted with the idea of empty.
I've been doing it out of necessity. It's been more difficult than I anticipated.
Holding space takes more work than I'm usually willing to do. I like to have stuff going on. I like to have important things to do. I like being busy.
But I've been working at being not-so-busy. At being in-between. At letting things pass by me, and through me, and around me. Life as preposition.
Do I need to tell you it's been a wee bit uncomfortable? I didn't think so. But honestly, dear reader, sometimes this life feels like so much unsettled grit in a glass of water, all stirred up and clouding my perspective, and I need to just let it all settle for a time in order to see where I am.
Sometimes "for a time" takes longer than I expect. Lots of grit. Lots of swirling.
Some of the discomfort of letting things settle comes from identifying too much with the grit -- with mistaking myself for all the crazy stuff swirling around me. I confuse that stuff with who I am and what I'm doing. And then, as I let it fall away, I get anxious, wondering where my life went.
Where I went.
And then I blink, and things are a little clearer, and I think, oh, okay. Here I am, right where I've been all along.
Is it ever like that for you? I'm sure it is. I can't be the only one.
Anyway, as I hold this space and let old things fall away, I've been playing with a new blog on Wordpress, trying out a fresh canvas, seeing how I like their different way of doing things. There isn't much there yet, not even a bonafide post, so if you wander over don't come away disappointed. It's just me, holding space, taking a breath, getting a little clarity before I plunge back into muddy water.