I write you from my small space. It is a comfortable armchair next to a small bright window and smells like freshly ground coffee. I can look down a small pile of books near my feet, or cross the room on my yoga carpet. (Strately overlooking the dishes they need to wash). These are my small spaces.
Then there is my great world space. My World News applications are organized together on my phone, ranging from the serious to the reflexive to the entertaining. The links to the writers and journalists that I follow and the podcasts that I enjoy are within my reach. My book of books could be in my small space, but they are really part of my great world space, taking me to other places and stories and lives.
But what I am thinking today is space. Archaeologists call it the “third space.” Sociologists call it our “people.” They are our daily neighbors and our weekly reading clubs and our monthly meetings of the committee. It is the restaurant that we frequent with our friend. (It is not the one who delivers food to our small space). It is the bus where we sat every Saturday in the morning, chatting a little with that pleasant old woman. (It is not the car in which we drive the other mornings). It is the weekly yoga class where we place our mat in that warm place near the window. (Not the exercise application we use the other days).
The opportunities for small spaces and large spaces are growing exponentially: delivery, take, transmission, social networks … but everything has a cost. Our third spaces are disappearing in the United States.
When we were children, our third space was where we learned our shared humanity. It is in this space where we play with the same children with whom we sometimes did not agree. This is where we were willing to play our less favorite game because it is what our favorite people were doing. It was in this space where we were wrong, we apologized and learned to move on (a little more humble than before).
As adults, the third space is where we spend the time with the same neighbors and the family with which sometimes we do not agree. It is where we learn a new activity because that is what our favorite people want to do. In this space, we have to get through the inevitable disorder and apologies and hopeful acceptance (a little more humble than before). It is where we experience our shared differences and our shared humanity.
Our great current space in the great world has become noisy and overwhelming. This makes us crave our little space where we can do what we want and think what we want and tune in everything. Yes, our small space is the perfect place to recharge. We can use it to meditate and pray and walk in nature, far from crazy people. But we cannot prosper unless we have a balance of spaces. Too much large space and small space, and not enough third space, is making Americans lonely.
Yoga talks about interconnection. Do not find yourself when separating from the town, but by finding your space within it. We need to play with the same people with whom we do not agree. We need people to spoil and apologize and then accept them.
We need each other.
Until next time
Laura
