One of the earliest things I remember doing at school is using my finger to make the spaces between words. I’d have to plonk it carefully next to the end of one word and then begin my next word as close to my finger as I could. Flicking back through Primary School textbooks, the spaces look humongous to me now.
But space is important isn’t it.
Imagine reading this article or your favourite book with no spaces.
Or should I say ‘Imaginereadingthisarticleoryourfavouritebookwithnospaces.’
I don’t know about you but I read that second sentence at high speed. And if I hadn’t seen it in the line before I’d be taking an age to unpick it.
How often do you try to live life with no spaces, at high speed? One meeting tagged on straight after another. Back home, grabbing a quick tea before heading out to our next social engagement. Talking on the phone, whilst emptying the dishwasher and also cooking the dinner. It’s easy for life to become one big multi-tasking, fast paced hive of activity.
how often do you leave an empty space?
I’m interested in your response to that last question. Even as I wrote it I found myself getting a bit shuffley. The concept of an empty space makes me feel nervous, like it needs to be filled. Take that another level and make it about stillness and I can feel myself starting to twitch. Stillness isn’t something I often do, or didn’t until recently anyway. I wasn’t comfortable with it.
How do you find yourself responding to that question?
in honesty empty space is uncomfortable, yet it’s an important part of wellbeing.
One of the reasons empty space, or stillness, could be making you feel uncomfortable is summed up well in the article ‘The Importance of Stillness’…
“The reality is that we’re conditioned to associate stillness with inactivity, and inactivity with failure. We’re trained to be overworked and to believe that if, at any point, we aren’t doing something that contributes to our goals, we’re not doing anything.”
Stillness, solitude, silence, whatever you want to call it, is a valuable wellbeing practice. Creating spaces of pause is physically good for your body, as it allows your brain to recalibrate and do the important unconscious tasks. Not cramming every minute full actually helps to improve your focus and creativity and reduce your stress levels. The benefits are both physical and emotional.
Stillness as a wellbeing practice
I now practice stillness as part of my life much more regularly and I actually look forward to it. As someone who loves people and activity this has taken me by surprise. I now notice when there has been a lack of stillness in my life and the impact on my wellbeing is noticeable.
Reflecting on why has helped me to realise that, even as an extrovert, I need to allow my mind space to slow. My thoughts need space to bubble up. And probably most surprising of all is that in the quiet I have come to be more at peace with myself.
it’s often the quiet places that allow space for our emotional wellbeing to flourish.
Often, in embracing empty space, whether that’s through stillness or silence, you are forced to confront yourself. To allow things to bubble up that busyness allows to remain hidden. Again it’s uncomfortable.. Looking back now though I can see how making space for stillness and for these things to bubble up has actually brought about a real flourishing in me.
Carl Rodgers explains it well in this quote.
‘The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just I am then I can change.’
Carl Rodgers
Somehow, being still allows me to come to a place of self-acceptance that allows my wellbeing to flourish. And when I’m flourishing, I grow.
What does it look like for you to be still?
It can take practice to work it out. Try a few different ways.
For me it’s often sat with a coffee, being in nature. For other people it looks entirely different.
Find your way of being still and start out.
Try it for two minutes. Then four. Then five.
Give yourself time to practice and to allow the practice of stillness to grow in you.
Source : The Importance of Stillness