The Empty Space

Have you ever considered how beautifully emotions can coexist?

And how necessary it is to empty them out so that you can be filled once again?

Sometimes we just keep going with life. We ride the ups and downs — talking about them, wallowing in them, celebrating them. But do we really sit with them? Do we allow them all to come together in one place and expand our capacity to hold more?

This past week, we began the process of moving out of the home we’ve lived in for the past 25 years. The excitement of stepping into the future I’ve been manifesting for years was palpable. I felt immense gratitude for this next chapter.

And yet, I also found myself in the upstairs loft, surrounded by boxes pulled from the attic, sitting in a puddle of tears as I flipped through old photo albums. The furniture slowly disappeared from each room, leaving an echo of emptiness — and yet, somehow, also a sense of clarity. The contrast of it all was striking.

The week itself held so many layers. The high of shared laughter and connection with other women. The pride of exchanging knowledge and growth at work. The ache of heartbreak in the voice of a loved one over the phone. It was as if a river of emotions had rushed through me, threatening to pull me under.

It’s easy in these moments to just keep pushing forward, putting one foot in front of the other. To keep moving.

But when we stop — when we give ourselves permission to sit with it all and release it — we create space for the light to enter.

And so, this morning, I walked back into that empty loft. I sat against the wall and closed my eyes. I opened my heart and began to breathe. Slow and steady.
With each inhale, I whispered to myself:
"I breathe in life into my being."
And with each exhale:
"I breathe out being into life."

I sat in the emptiness and let myself feel it all.

There, in this cleared-out house — stripped of furniture and decor, yet filled with memories — I found a parallel to the emotions stirring within me.

Gratitude for all I’ve been given and for what’s to come. Sadness and a touch of fear for the unknown. Lingering worries that seemed to creep into the quiet corners. Awareness of the needs of others. Surrender to the circumstances I cannot control.

The tears began to flow. But there were no swirling stories, no frantic thoughts — just presence. A quiet opening of the heart. A smile curled around my lips as the joy of simply feeling settled in.

Sadness and fear danced with joy and gratitude. And as the emotions spilled out, I felt an expansion — a clearing.
Room for the light to come in.