The Missing Element
ways to relate to space (and energy) in relationship
One of the most pertinent themes in my life recently has been the presence and absence of space in different dimensions of experience. In conversations and in reflections, I keep returning to the importance of this invisible, intangible element.
To be clear, I’m going beyond a conceptual idea of what space is to an actual, felt relationship with it. In this very moment, you could notice the space around your body, the space between the words on this page, the space between one thought and the next, the space between you and the other beings in your environment…
Space is so difficult to relate to because of its intangiblity; there is nothing to hold onto. That absence in turn is what makes it (at least potentially) restful to be with, if we can surrender to it.
Many times we ask for space because we’re feeling overwhelmed or overstimulated; yet when we are given space we default to filling it up in some way, or we don’t really take it in, because we have forgotten how to relate to it. My hope is that by unfolding some ideas and metaphors around space, you will find ways to sink into it more fully, or to invite it into your life more consciously.
I have chosen to populate this post with images of outer space, taken mainly by the Hubble and James Webb space telescopes.1 Although we may not recognize it, outer space parallels and mirrors inner space. I look at images like these to remind myself of the richness of the world, both inside and outside us. Let’s dive in…
We know from physics that there is a relationship between space, energy and time. This relationship is not only theoretical but can be felt directly, because the way we relate to any one of these elements influences and determines how we relate to the others. In other words, your approach to space is mirrored, and mirrors, your approach to time and energy, and vice versa. This can be difficult to sense for yourself, but others around you will know it either instinctively or consciously—it’s part of what they perceive as your personality.
As in so many other things, there is not one best way. Rather, it is ideal to have and cultivate a flexible approach, so that sometimes you invite more space/time/energy, other times less. This way you are responsive to both your changing nature and the flow of life around you.
the energy dynamics of relationship
There is a way to sense—rather than think—the right amount of space that any relationship calls for. Here I am going to talk as if about two people, but this applies to any relationship you have, including with a part of yourself, an idea, a place, a project etc. In these cases you use imagination to externalise the Other as a body that you can then relate to.
The easiest and most literal approach is to feel the space between your two bodies, and what is there. Sometimes there is a tugging towards, other times a kind of repelling magnetism away. Sometimes the space feels vast and distant and maybe empty, other times it feels very close and full. In relationship and in life, space and energy co-exist, so when you sense space you are also sensing energy.
One of my favourite things to do when I’m with someone is to sense the space between and around us. I notice how my attention expands and contracts along with the flow of conversation, the kind of environment we’re in (also a form of space), the mood of the other person and the changing life within my own body. With some people my attention sticks to them intensely, as if they are a black hole with their own gravity drawing me in. With others, I am much more open and expansive, aware of everything going on all around us, and where they fit within that landscape. With others there is a back-and-forth between my inner world and them, between focus and expansion, attention and rest.
There is a dance and a music to how we reach and unfold towards each other, and then withdraw and contain within ourselves. On and on that song plays until we establish a rhythm that feels right and familiar, effortless to sink into. The people we’ve known for longest offer us the comfort of a predictable rhythm, one where we don’t need to be as conscious any more because our bodies and nervous systems have learned each other’s ways over time.
gravity and orbits
As in outer space, relationships have their own gravity and anti-gravity; the basic pull and push of all life. A few years ago, I remember coming up with a metaphor to describe my family to someone—each of us is a planet, and we are all circling in our own orbits around the (energetic) center of our family system. Unlike with actual planets, the gravity of each person and relationship is constantly changing, which is what makes things interesting and also admittedly chaotic.
I’ve noticed that sometimes my orbit whizzes past my parents’ like I’m an asteroid on a collision course. Other times one of us turns from a planet into a moon for a while, sticking very close and influencing the others much more deeply. Sometimes one of us will conjoin the heart at the center of the system for a while, radiant and burning like the sun. Other times we can’t sense that center at all, and things feel like they’re falling apart even though they aren’t.
When things are unclear with an Other, it helps me to sit back and imagine each of us as a planet in space, and then to ask questions like:
How are these two (or more) planets relating?
Are they on the same orbit, at different times—ie. is one chasing or following the other?
Are they on different orbits? And if so, are their orbits aligned, aligning, deviating, static?
How much space does one planet want from the other?
Which planet is moving faster or slower? Which has the smaller or larger orbit?
Are there other planets, moons, or celestial bodies [ie. other people or factors] influencing the orbits of these two planets?
And then there is the deepest question of all: what is the central force drawing these two planets into relationship with each other? This is the mystical heart of your connection to the Other, usually something you can perceive only tangentially. It is the shape-shifting nebula between you, that keeps you suspended in each others’ orbits.2
space as presence and intent
Unfolding this metaphor gets me to sense the space between me and another as a living presence, something that suspends and supports us as we interact and relate. Space is the third, invisible presence holding us, a quiet and soft void that is real and right there for us to drop into when we need it.
When someone becomes distant, or says they need space when I don’t want to give it, this idea gives me comfort because it reminds me that we are still in relationship, that there is still a gravity pull between us that I can sense as it stretches out to accommodate this change. The reverse is also true: when someone collapses their orbit too close into mine, I can always stretch back and sense the space around us to restore my balance.
This exercise also gives me a sense of interconnectedness without necessarily making myself the center of everything. Getting a bit of distance from yourself by imagining yourself also as a planet within a bigger space (pun intended) lets you see what you are doing and bringing into the dynamic. You see your own pattern, and how it intersects with the patterns of others—and therefore also why things are unfolding the way they are, or what you can do about it, or what is needed to make a change in a different direction.3
Recently I have been reconceptualising my relationship with my work, and how I can hold capacity for existing clients while also inviting in new ones. The image that came to me was of being a black hole inside a galaxy, with planets orbiting around representing existing connections, and other stars twinkling in the distance representing potential ones. As I sunk into this image, I realised that while I could feel my own ‘gravity’ drawing people in, I couldn’t actually feel a connection to those distant stars. They were there, but I couldn’t touch them. Something in me wanted to radiate outwards and reach towards them, but I wasn’t sure how. I’m still unfolding this image, with an intuition that the black hole could transform into a star, if I figure out how to express something from inside me that touches others directly.
In Laban movement, there is a principle called Space Intent, which involves directing certain parts of the body towards particular directions in space. It is not necessarily about actually moving those parts in those directions, but about the intent or the direction that you give yourself, and how your body responds to that. For example, while walking, you could Intend your head upwards, or your hip sideways, or your foot forwards.
The subtlety involved in this kind of self-to-self communication often literally opens up spaces within the body, as the nervous system learns to perceive movement in new ways. Space Intent is another way to explore how the lightest of touches, in previously unexplored directions, creates fresh possibilities both energetically and physically.
In the metaphor above, I’m now playing with Intending outwards, and seeing what emerges: what energy or quality actually radiates from me, if I give it a direction to go? In this way, my exploration of space gives me both awareness and agency, as something I can play with moving forwards.
conclusion
I’m not sure how much sense this has all made, or whether this is simply a window into my own strange ways of dreaming sense into the world. But so much of what I hear from others when they talk about issues with their friends, parents, partners, workplaces, is really pointing to something about space. There is too much space, or too little, or an unpredictably changing amount of space, or no awareness or respect for space.
When we know how to relate to it, space allows everything to fall into its rightful place in the whole. It gives us both orientation and direction, the key skills we need to navigate physical and other kinds of environments.
I hope that some of the ideas in this post kindled your awareness of space and ways that you can explore it for yourself. As always, I’d love to hear from you in the comments about how you relate to space and what you feel it gives you (or takes from you). Until next time, I’m wishing you just the right balance of space and energy in your life...
If you’ve not had a chance to explore the images that these telescopes are sending back, I would highly recommend it—you can start with this video from Hubble and this video from JW.
I credit a deepening exploration of astrology over the past couple of years for giving me the ability to conceptualise and describe all these different energetic and relational dynamics.
This exercise is also similar to the use of theatre to externalise and explore relationship dynamics. When we place something in physical space, we automatically have to decide many things about it: its particular place in the space, whether it is moving or still, what its posture or shape is, how close or far it is from others in the space etc. This is a way of harvesting unconscious information about the relationship that we may not be able to articulate in words, and then playing with and exploring the possibilities that emerge. I recently watched a beautiful show called Another Self in which the main characters explore intergenerational trauma and healing via this kind of work.
We forget 'empty' space occupies more space than mass. Meanwhile its not empty at all, but brimming with vitality and life.
Apt comparison.