Mostly, I thought “Command” might be my undoing.
There was also one Saturday morning where the letter A kept repeating itself but autocorrect was pretty much able to adjust that as I typed.
No such tech help came last week, however.
Even though four years of newsletters, online courses, and god knows how many emails had worn through the Command key, it was the Spacebar that proved the ultimate undoing of my MacBook Air.
Although autocorrect could break up the occasional set of 2 combined words, when 3 or 4 were inadvertently grouped together because of my sticky spacebar, it completely failed to decipher and separate them.
Wordsgotstucktogether in ways that required constant tedious manual separation.
Realizing that we were on a steady descent, it was time.
A new MacBook Pro was needed––and fittingly in a month where I’m focused on the theme of Giving (Meditation HERE)––one that could enhance my writing with that precious thing we all desperately require:
The Gift of Space.
Speaking of space…this week the baseball field / dog park has been wide open in the mornings.
That’s because Bonnie, a lively elementary school substitute teacher, reached a breaking point realization.
What we’d long suspected was confirmed by Jose––which I’ve now learned is the field custodian’s name––just before he left for a week’s vacation to Atlantic City, dressed to the nines in a style that can only be called “Vintage Cuban Gangster.”
Namely, that the Parks Department had placed just a single lock on the main gates, each with a combination––thanks to supportive sports allies––we’ve had for months.
The rest of the locks are from “Concerned Citizens” (aka Freelance Vigilantes) determined to keep the empty field locked up from us “Dog People.”
Like my errant keyboard, they want to deny us the precious gift of space.
And trust me, there’s no lack of overkill involved.
Please note that the field has six entrances.
Below is an actual Portrait Mode Photo by my friend Lakenya of just one of them:
Again, only one of those locks is legit.
Knowing now that the locks were completely unofficial and unsanctioned by anyone or anything legitimate, emboldened Bonnie and her bolt cutters.
Again, this is increasingly a kind of Coen Brothers movie reality.
While it’s unclear just how large the weekly lock replacement budget is for the Concerned Citizens, this Saga over Empty Space seems to have reached an impasse.
Speaking of which …
I woke up to a short Seth Godin email with the one word subject line “Overstuffed.”
Appropriately (and ironically), it’s only 3 lines of text.
They are:
“The empty part of the drawer is what makes it a useful tool.
Same goes for a filing cabinet, a toolbox and a calendar.
Slack is underrated.”
In some ways, I so appreciate the gift of empty space, particularly on my calendar.
The surprise of an unscheduled moment is priceless.
Beyond this, rarely has anything given me that same feeling of wild freedom as the storage space I got recently, mostly to put away a few boxes of winter clothes and Christmas decorations.
The latter came mostly from my previous neighbors, a couple in their 80s who, when they decided to forgo their own tree and focus on mine, lent me their decades of ornaments one Christmas.
They’ve both since passed away, and while I’m thrilled their son sweetly suggested I keep the ornaments, I don’t need to live with their/my holiday decoration year round.
Pricy though it is, gifting myself that extra closet space is one of the wisest choices I’ve ever made.
At the same time I treasure it, I also feel the terror of the empty space.
Not just the pain of an awkward silence, but also, when you’re planning an event, fear of the empty room.
As I write this, it’s the day before my Sunday June 25th in-person benefit class HERE.
Although over two+ decades of teaching, I’ve mostly experienced full, even sold-out classes, it has been a while––actually 3 years––since I’ve done a live event.
There’s always the real possibility that no one will show up.
When I shared this with a dear friend––the first person who signed up––saying it might just be the two of us, she was actually thrilled.
For me, that scenario would represent a kind of sad, quiet failure.
For her, the idea of a two hour private lesson was like winning a minor lottery.
Clearly, the empty space is always up for interpretation.
While there was a bittersweet moment letting go of my MacBook Air with its worn and sticky keys, I confess to immediately falling in love with my new laptop.
It is definitely faster and more powerful.
Most importantly, words are no longer randomly clustered together.
Once again, there’s an appropriate amount of breathing room between words and letters.
Fittingly, this reflects the entire goal of yoga or any spiritual practice: arriving at and becoming comfort with emptiness.
As Deepak Chopra reminds us, “When we talk about the gap or the space between thoughts, we are talking about our silent self or pure consciousness.”
Like storing your Christmas ornaments so your closet can finally exhale, we each have to find ways to cultivate that inner spaciousness.
Often the best tool is meditation.
And sometimes, as my substitute kindergarten teacher friend reminds us, in order to get on the field of pure consciousness and play freely, you might just need bolt cutters.
Namaste for Now,
