Space Discoveries

As the new year begins, I find myself reflect­ing on the year that has passed and plan­ning for the year to come. Like many peo­ple, I’m sure. Set­ting goals and res­o­lu­tions, renew­ing com­mit­ments and promis­ing to change usu­ally come to mind.

Recently, though, I’ve been think­ing about my need for space. Prompted by a study of Barry Hart’s “Peace­build­ing Wheel” in rela­tion­ship to peace edu­ca­tion in a class last year, the con­cept of phys­i­cal, emo­tional, and rela­tional space con­tin­ues to come to my attention.

I know that I need phys­i­cal space. I real­ized the extent of my claus­tro­pho­bia in Korea on the packed 11pm under­ground trains where my breath­ing was inter­rupted by the push of peo­ple against me. What does it mean, though, to have emo­tional and rela­tional space? How does that relate to time?

In the last year, I expe­ri­enced the loss of a good friend. Through the grief process, I’m start­ing to under­stand the need for emo­tional space. While I rarely give myself the free­dom to just feel what I feel, I see the neg­a­tive impacts this lack of space has on me and the peo­ple close to me. When I do give myself space to grief, to lis­ten to my feel­ings and how my body is telling me it needs me to lis­ten, I come to a sense of release and renewal. If I have emo­tional space, the griev­ing process can con­tinue in healthy and life-giving ways.

The rela­tional con­cept of space cre­ates a place for friend­ships and con­nec­tions to be nur­tured. When I have my to-do list and I am so busy check­ing off on thing and the next, being pro­duc­tive, I more than likely will miss the nuances of my spouse’s facial expres­sions and for­get to ask how his day has gone. I tend to rush out of the stu­dent lounge after say­ing hi to a few from my class to get back to my office and “get things done” rather than sit together with hon­esty and pres­ence. Rela­tional space draws me into the lives of oth­ers, and makes their sto­ries my own. It cre­ates the oppor­tu­nity for authen­tic encounters.

So per­haps this year my res­o­lu­tion is not doing some­thing new, but let­ting go and cre­at­ing space. I seek to focus less on doing and more on being. In some ways, it’s eas­ier to resolve to add more com­mit­ments and promises to my sched­ule than to hon­estly reflect in space which may frighten and threaten me with its empti­ness. I find it more dif­fi­cult to stop, release, and be present. I sense, though, that Hart’s “Peace­build­ing Wheel” has some­thing that I’m miss­ing as one who seeks to cre­ate peace. This year, I’d like to dis­cover some space.