This season requires - space

Hiii friend,

You know the deal by now - If you’re not already settled with your journal, drink (and snacks), go do that now. We’ll wait…

Today we’re talking about something we rarely give ourselves enough of:

space.

This year has been… a lot.

Not in the loud, world-stopping way 2020 was.

It’s been quieter. Sneakier. Change and pressure building under the surface. The constant hum of genocide and global crises layered on top of our own personal “stuff” — redundancies, babies, breakups, AI, health scares…

As I said - it’s been a lot.

But because we’ve lived through the years of “quarantines” and “unprecedented times,” I worry that we’ve built a dangerous tolerance. If it’s not a pandemic, it’s easily downplayed and dismissed as “not that deep” or just “what it is”.

We normalize. We push through. And sure, sometimes we need to.
But the cost is that one day you wake up and realize things are absolutely not fine.

(They were, in fact, very deep.)

It makes me think of that scene from Spirited Away.

A nod to the idea of death by a thousand paper cuts. You don’t feel the first few. Or the tenth. But one day you wake up and realize that all of a sudden you’re on the edge.

In full transparency: I’m working through my own version of that right now. Maybe it’s the move across the world (again), maybe it’s losing my routines and comforts, maybe it’s September being that kind of month. Maybe it’s a little bit of all the above.

Either way, with the distractions stripped back, I’ve been left with… space.

And in that space, the whispers and questions I’ve been ignoring are suddenly louder. It’s uncomfortable (I hate the unknown), but also, I can feel that tucked inside the discomfort is possibility. Growth. Maybe even something exciting.

And that’s what we’re exploring today. The power and importance of space.

As always, I have a lesson, 3 questions and a dare for you.

[A LESSON]

Space is uncomfortable.

We avoid it. Fill it. Numb it.

But it’s also one of the most fertile grounds for self-discovery.

In psychology, there’s a concept called stimulus-free processing (sexy, I know). It’s your brain’s natural ability to repair, reorganize, and connect dots when it isn’t drowning in input. Those stretches of “nothing time” - waiting in line, taking a shower, going for a walk - are actually when your default mode network kicks in. That’s the system responsible for reflection, imagination, and weaving together your past, present, and future.

It’s why ideas pop up when you’re brushing your teeth, or why a problem you’ve been chewing on for weeks suddenly clicks when you’re out for a run. Your brain needs space to surface what’s been simmering underneath.

And it’s not just science. Spiritually, traditions across the world have always honoured space: meditation, silence, fasting, time in nature. Practices that look like “doing nothing” on the outside, but are actually portals on the inside. The space is sacred.

The trouble is, modern life has trained us to believe the opposite. We measure our worth in output. If we’re not producing, achieving, or proving, something must be wrong. So space feels lazy. Or worse, threatening. Because silence is where the truths we’ve been avoiding finally get loud enough to hear.

And yet, this is the paradox: space is where the next version of us is born. Without it, we stay in autopilot, living out old and outdated patterns, over and over again.

With it, we allow reinvention.

Think about winter. On the surface, it looks like nothing is happening. The trees are bare, the soil is frozen. But underground, roots are thickening, systems are rewiring, energy is storing up for the next season. Rest is not absence. It’s preparation.

The same applies to us. Space is where new questions arrive, where old dreams reappear, where the whispers of change get louder. It doesn’t mean we have to overhaul our whole lives in one go. Sometimes it just means creating small pauses: a commute without headphones, a morning without your phone, five minutes of quiet before bed. Little doorways for clarity to walk through.

So maybe this season isn’t about doing more, but about daring to pause.
To create silence.
To sit in the discomfort.
To trust that something important is trying to emerge.

Because space isn’t absence. It’s an invitation.

[3 QUESTIONS ]

1. Think about the last time you had an unexpected moment of silence (on a walk, in the shower, waiting for something). What surfaced?

2. Where in your life right now do you feel the most crowded or overstimulated? How could you make a little more space?

3. Picture your life as a winter season right now. What’s happening “beneath the soil” for you?
   

[A DARE]

This week, I dare you to create one intentional pocket of space.

It could be a commute in silence. A walk without your phone. A weekend morning without plans. Notice what surfaces when you don’t fill the gaps.

It might feel uncomfortable at first, but stay with it. The discomfort is often just the signal that you’re finally listening.

Pheww. Although we’re only 9 months in, I have a feeling many of us will look back and realize how much this year changed us. I don’t know exactly what’s on the other side of the space I’m sitting in right now…. but I trust that it’s growth.

See you on a Sunday,

L

P.S. If this resonated, forward it to a friend who could use a little breathing room. They can »> Sign up here «<