Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Thinking {that's all}: The Space to Burn

The more I feel the lure of busyness wooing my heart, the more I want to sharp turn left and veer into radical unbusyness.

Because since starting the journey toward uncluttering our calendars and seeking to live intentionally in the moment about a year and some months ago, I've found at times what it means to live in the wide open space of air and light.

Last summer, I read this for the first time. {TOTALLY worth your 60 seconds to read}

What makes a fire burn is space between the logs, a breathing space.
Too much of a good thing,
too many logs packed in too tight can douse the flames almost as surley as a pail of water.
So building fires requires attention to the spaces in between, as much as to the wood.
When we are able to build open spaces in the same way we have learned to pile on logs,
then we come to see how it is fuel, and the absence of fuel together, that make fire possible.
We only need to lay a log lightly from time to time.
A fire grows simply because the space is there,
with openings in which the flame that knows
just how it wants to burn can find its way.  
Fire, by Judy Brown  

I've taken the deep breath of virgin air, held it in my lungs, cold and burning and let it clear out my mind, while soaking up the oxygen in the depths of my spirit.


It's been good. So good that when I slip back into over committment and over booking, I sort of feel like I'm that over-logged fire -- suffocating, the passion burning inside me dwindling into just a flicker from a flame.

Says the girl who used to have something scheduled every morning and afternoon each day of the week.

And so I ponder, as we head into 2012, how to keep this sacred space for burning free of another log on the burn pile when so many logs seem like they'll be magnificent additions.