The Angst of Inner Spaciousness

It’s been quite a summer. A wedding. A Be Present Black & Female National Conference where I was part of a diverse group of facilitators. A gathering with two organizations looking at “Money and the New Community.” And a Wisdom & Money Board meeting. All as my little grandson Daniel keeps growing cuter by the moment.

All year I’ve been releasing some of my very old, entrenched habits that are seriously unhelpful. That work plus the alchemical mix of these rich events of the summer has stretched me. It feels as if the boundaries of my life have expanded, whispering of possibility.

More openness in my life is gift, but right now it feels strange.

Sometimes this new inner territory seems blank. Its emptiness feels like something is seriously wrong and, thus, is very disconcerting. I know inner spaciousness is part of the transformative journey, but it’s tempting to try to fill up the space so I can feel “normal” again.

In addition, some of my old feelings and habits have crept back in, uninvited, and are creating quite a ruckus. They turn cartwheels. They call out in their tricky sounds-good voices trying to entice me to let them stay. I hear them. I see them. While I can’t ignore them, I’m not letting them take root in the soil of my expanded inner space.

Neither of these experiences—the unsettling emptiness nor the clanging old voices—are passing on through quickly. Quietly.

I’m impatient. I want to savor and write about all that is emerging—all I’ve learned—what I see from this vantage pint. But new words fail me, and I’m temporarily left with echoing silence or jangling old words.

I’m learning that this is the way transformation works—just like being courageous means I feel my roaring fears and move forward anyway.

At a time when I want to be writing regular blogs again, diving deeper than I’ve done before, I’m slowing down to adjust to the new inner spaciousness and freedom.

It is the fastest way I know to move forward.


I couldn’t resist including:

Daniel Gunner Thurston
4 months old