As preparation for a workshop on empty space in the creative process, I have been on a partial media diet. No tv-series, no Facebook article browsing, no reading, no newspapers and so on.
The silence is astounding.
Of course, it wasn’t at first. Because what happens when we stop, clear the space and surrender to it? Everything rushes in. All the denied, pushed away, ignored aspects of the inner world are there, in our faces.
This time, though, it was curiously impersonal.
All the usual suspects, particular to this personality make up of mine, were there: “You’re no good. There is something wrong with you. You’re not normal. Nothing matters. You should just get a real job.”
But come on. Twenty-five years of inner work later, they are still the same. My shadow, my fears and doubts, the scars, the wounds. It is just thinking. So I gather them into my lap, embrace them, and we sit in the empty space together. Watching snowflakes fall against the backlight of a rising sun.
Sending you a whiff of peace, where ever you are in your life, today.