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There’s a reason many of us pursue a busy, overflowing life. Even though the lifestyle makes us sick and exhausted, there’s a reason we refuse to stop. When there’s nothing to do, when there’s silence and emptiness, we finally have space to ask the big questions. And this can be incredibly confronting.

It’s easier to keep our heads down, and busy ourselves, rather than answering the questions our inner voices might be asking.

“What is my life about?” or, “What am I on this earth for?”

I like to think of my life as a big empty bowl (perhaps a beautiful ceramic one in my favorite autumn colors). My bowl is often full with work, busy social schedules, physical belongings, and even relationships. 

As I’ve simplified over the years and made more space in my bowl, I’ve often felt confronted by that space. It has been difficult for me to just sit with it. My default reaction to space is to fill it with something – anything.

And yet, as I learn to sit for just a little bit with the space, these times have been the biggest personal growth periods.

How to sit with empty spaces

What I love about moving into a new home is the luxury of having big wide open spaces. When we move, our goal is to always try and move things into the new space slowly, and to live with the space for a bit, deciding what it might need, rather than just assuming the things that we have always had will work.

Sometimes that means we move things around, a set of drawers may find a better purpose in a hallway now, rather than a bedroom. Other times it means we donate those drawers.

But first, we give the space time. 

If you have newfound space in your life, whether it’s physical, from minimising your belongings, or space on your calendar, resist the urge to refill it straight away.

Give your empty space time to just be

If you are used to refilling spaces immediately, commit to giving it 2-3 days. Over these few days, ask yourself some questions. “What does this empty space feel like to me”. Does it feel boring or freeing? 

“What would be the best thing to pop into this space – if I choose to fill it again?” You might want to consider your season of life and your personal strengths here. If it’s a scheduling gap, the time of the day might help you decide whether filling it is a wise choice.

When emptiness feels uncomfortable

Ask yourself some questions. 

Start with some small ones. Like, “where in my body do I feel this discomfort?”. 

Personally, I get an itchy, tense feeling sometimes when there’s too much space. And if I can’t sit through it, this is when I busy myself with a whole lot of… well, nothing. I walk room to room, moving things, instead of doing anything really significant. 

(I’m filling a gap.)

Perhaps then you ask another question. “Why do I feel itchy and tense?” (replace with your own feelings).

For me, the itch settles in my upper chest and seems to come from a place of ‘not enough’. I’m not doing enough. Not being enough. Not enough.

It’s uncomfortable feeling this. But at the same time it’s interesting, so I follow that curiosity for a bit.

I keep asking questions, iterating upon the last answer. Sometimes I don’t get to an endpoint. And often the emptiness is still awfully uncomfortable. 

But sometimes, the empty space becomes freeing. Luxurious. Extravagant. Relaxing. I have moved past the pressure to DO, and found peace.

And often I find things like long-lost creative passions. Or the answer to something that’s been baffling me. In this place I often find self-compassion. Of the kind that says ‘you are enough’. 

It’s in emptiness that I found writing (again), and began to confront emerging anxiety about being a parent. In empty places I often uncover what my body or mind might really need. (It’s usually rest). 

Emptiness is vulnerable

This is hard work. It’s easier to DO (as opposed to being). It’s easier to fill gaps. To fill empty spaces.

Sitting with emptiness is vulnerable. And vulnerability is hard.

Western society tells us not to be vulnerable. Even when the message is to seek help and get counseling, often the subtext is ‘weakness’, and ‘wrongness’. 

But to paraphrase (or possibly butcher) Brene Brown, vulnerability is the bravest thing we can do, because by being vulnerable we open ourselves up to connection, and in turn, to rejection. 

Emptiness, and the ability to sit with it, begets vulnerability.

Don’t fill all the spaces.

Let some fresh air in. 

Allow yourself to breathe deeply again.