A Magical Moment of Ma 間

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” — Leonard Cohen

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” — Leonard Cohen

 

To make beautiful music from a block of wood, you first need to make a hole. To create empty space.

Emptiness which in time will allow for the emergence of resonance but which at first will be just that, a hole — a whole lotta nothing.

Emptiness which will be profoundly uncomfortable and dissonant long before you find resonance.

Emptiness which honestly, you’re going to have to be with for quite some time before you’re able to produce beautiful music.

I love this metaphor as a way of thinking about transformation and personal growth.

When undergoing change — whether self-directed or thrust upon us by outside circumstances — we have to create and be with empty space. We have to stop doing what we’ve been doing — stop playing that same old song on repeat — and be with the emptiness that results before we can compose a new tune and make music again.

At first there is nothing. Just emptiness. Emptiness and the profound discomfort that sitting in a space of nothingness and not knowing gives rise to.

Discomfort that often drives us back to the unsatisfying relationship we left, the bad habit we’re trying to break or the former self-identity we want to evolve from.

Discomfort that is filled with the voices of our saboteurs telling us all the ways that being the change we wish to see in ourselves is impossible so we shouldn’t try.

Discomfort that often drives us to fill the hole — with something, anything — and stop the transformation train on its tracks before it’s even left the station.

Assuming you are able to tolerate the discomfort and be with the emptiness long enough, after the uncomfortable nothingness comes the dissonance. A trial and error phase of awkward, failed attempts to make new music.

The empty space you’ve created is like a new instrument. One you have no experience with or idea how to play. Like a new instrument, you’ll need to spend a lot of time practicing before you are able to produce anything resembling music.

You don’t pick up a cello and suddenly become Yo-Yo Ma.

Over time, with equal parts practice and patience, you’ll notice the dissonance giving way to resonance. New music will start to emerge from a resonant new you.

Right now, courtesy of a global pandemic and our collective confinement, many of us are experiencing a lot of emptiness as change is forced upon us at a species-level. It’s like the Universe pushed a massive pause button, forcing us to stop all we were doing — cease and desist all our collective busy-ness — and just be with the resulting emptiness and all the discomfort that comes with it.

The unfilled hours of our now seemingly never-ending days.

The calendars devoid of plans.

The deafening silence.

The uncertainty and insecurity about what’s next.

Oh, the places we cannot go! And oh, how we wish we were anywhere but here.

This uncomfortable emptiness has given us a rare opportunity to turn inwards and listen — a magical, macro moment of ma.

Ma is a Japanese character 間 made from the kanji character for door 門 and that for sun日. Ma is the opening that lets the light in. Ma is the space between things.

The space between notes that turn them into music.

The space between peak experiences which gives us time to appreciate them and integrate the learnings.

The space between what no longer serves and what we’re calling in that is a source of rich insight and wisdom if we can sit with it long enough to hear the music and find the resonance within.

Our invitation — and opportunity — is to resist the temptation to fill our days with new kinds of busy-ness — binge-watching Netflix, video-chatting our way to Zoombie-ville, posting yet-another clever quarant-meme or crafting yet-another COVID cocktail — and be in the ma.

Ma is like mindfulness so make it a practice. Start by being quiet. Breathing through the discomfort. Noticing the contents of your monkey mind with curiosity rather than anxiety or judgement. Being with what is and what comes up.

Stay with it, even when it becomes uncomfortable — especially when it becomes uncomfortable. Take breaks. Approach your inner landscape with loving curiosity and be gentle and patient with yourself.

Like any practice, this new one will take time.

You can use this moment of ma to mine for your essential ingredients, thinking about how they might be deployed in new ways to meet the needs of the present moment and the future that is emerging.

You can reflect on what was working and not working before COVID and think about what you want to leave behind and what you want to bring forward into the new world that is emerging as we speak.

You can try something you’ve always wanted to do but were too busy to try.

Whatever you do, don’t squander this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reflect, ideate, experiment and transform.

To make the most of this rare moment of silence and emptiness.

To go inside because we can’t go outside.

To see what the light in the emptiness reveals.

To find resonance in your soul and make the most exquisite music.

If you’d like help in mining for your essential ingredients and exploring ways to bring them to life in this world in service of your self-healing and our collective evolution, please book a curious conversation to explore ways the Vulnerability Doula can help.

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