An ode to cavernous spaces
Do not feel small when you enter a cavernous space. For you have just set foot into an enormous catchment basin. Be glad for the space, for the volume. But with limits. The bounds keep your ideas from escaping.
When I sit in an expansive space, the molecules of my ideas–under heat of wonder–move faster and faster. Liminal spaces fractal outwards, allowing thoughts to swirl and float upward. The expansion is palpable.
Something I’ve become more attuned to over the years is how my sense of mind varies based on the type of space I’m in. When I am in a mode of exploration, I only want the expanse. Big spaces, subtle chatter, open horizons. But when I am in a mode of exploitation, all I want is the narrow focus of a dark room. A conduit to funnel my thoughts directly at a specific goal. I feel uneasy when these environments are mismatched.
I sit down in one of these expansive rooms now, the cathedral ceiling of redwood extended above me. I can feel the space around my back, a tingle along my shoulders. My loose ideas drift upward and collect in the top corners, like balloons flocked together. I require a ladder to retrieve them. Ordinarily I’m afraid of heights, but not this type. I willingly let the ideas float high, allowing them to mix with the rhythm of the airflow overhead. I feel confident to climb up and get them later when I’m ready.
Notes on my daily writing practice
A different tune today. And a self reminder to be more open to going with the flow.
Total time: 35 minutes