Column 6: Back to the basics, or, musings on s p a c e
from a bag lady who needs to put down some of her bags 👛
I recently had a conversation with a woman on an elevator that really struck me. We hopped on together, I asked what floor she was heading to. Pushed her floor button. I noticed her eyes were kind of red, so I asked her if she was okay, had she been crying? She responded that she was fine and had just had a long day.
We were both carrying at least 4 bags each. I made a comment about how I seem to always be carrying 1000 bags at once.
What she said next was prophetic in the way that ordinary conversation lines often are — especially when the Universe detects you most need a lightning-bolt realization. Something to shake you up and out.
She laughed and knowingly agreed. “There’s never a bag that will fit all of it.”
It felt like time slowed down and got a little goopy when she said it. Just for a second or two. I was the only one of our pair who noticed.
🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀
I shook off the temporary time-sludge and reassumed cordial social conventions, nodding and laughing, internally wondering if she noticed my tiny existential trip. We both exited the elevator and it was just a small moment we shared, but something deeper rang so true in the space that encounter left between us.
In real life, whenever I get a bigger bag to accommodate the things I typically put in it, I just end up getting more things to fill up the new space. Such is the case with my perpetually-overflowing daily purse. It never fucking zips because I don’t allow it to. I stuff it to the brim with stuff I probably don’t actually need. Then, switch to a bigger one, only to do the same thing, as if the extra space never existed.
But outside of the bag as a metaphor, the main area of my life this shows up in is my calendar. I fill my “space” — really, my time — till there is none leftover. And I think, if my hand for some reason becomes free, I might as well occupy it by grabbing another bag to carry. I do this space-auditing and subsequent space-filling in a perpetual cycle, and then I wonder why I feel so tired, so burnt out, like I’ve been carrying way too much around. TOO MANY BAGS! 👛👛👛 Too much to do. Too many self-created expectations and obligations.
The elevator conversation came at a time (it was about a month ago) when I was feeling acutely overstretched with things I had put on my plate.
I wonder why I am so eager to fill space with things — to do, to have — when that space could very well exist as just that. Space.
Space to breathe. Space to rest and be. Space for surprises!
So, I’ve decided to try and get back to basics. I’m asking myself: what’s really important to me? I’m being more intentional about how I pledge to spend my energy and what I commit myself to, instead of filling up every night of my week with something just to “use” all of my time, taking on too much without more fully considering my bandwidth and my heart’s true desires.
I think about the luxuriousness of space— like stopping on a walk to breathe and listen to birds. I think perhaps space could be the most luxurious thing on the planet. Capitalistic parallels aside, it is WORTH something.
Here are some recent instances where I realized I was carrying a heavy or unwanted bag, and decided to let in some space instead:
The other night, I realized I was rushing putting my pajamas on — while listening to a song called “Sweet Time.” The irony made me chuckle!!! I slowed down after that. Literally why I gotta be doing that with my silky button ups. I’ve got nowhere to be but bed.
I decided not to commit to weekly orchestra rehearsals (hearkening back to Column #5). The schedule overwhelmed me, and I admitted to myself that the relationship I want to have with playing music doesn’t involve that kind of group at the moment.
Erik and I recently spent some time with his grandmother at her house. While there, I was on my phone for basically zero minutes. It was glorious. We looked at pictures and just TALKED. Towards the end of our visit, she made a comment about how she thinks it’s so important that we make space for that — to “just be together and talk.” My heart warmed so much at that (she’s so cool!!!).
On New Year’s Eve, I was stressing about what to wear as we prepared to leave my place. Then, I had the most circa-2000s revelation — an angel spoke to me: “Just go with jeans & a going out top, babe.” So I did. And felt so freeeeeed.
Aaaaanyway. Take the pressure off. Say no to that thing if you don’t really want to do it. Don’t fret! Drop some bags! I bet you’ll feel lighter. :~)
🕊️🌬️🎐🌨️🌿🧎🏼♀️➡️🦋🍯
xo,
Lo
❤️🔥