Spaces

Literally and figuratively, there's not enough space in this city. It's not all that surprising that I feel like I'm constantly trying to create space in this city of tiny living spaces that I can't afford. The world around us designs the world inside us.

Most people have no space for anything except empty crap, those things that they use to fill voids in their lives because they don't have the patience or wisdom or humility to stop and look inside and figure out what's actually missing. There's only room for our things, our status symbols, our pedigrees, our photos of impressive places we've been to, hung up on the wall, posted for all to see, while the wisdom or beauty or truth was left behind because our apartments aren't big enough to fit them, because we've forgotten that the safest deposit box is within ourselves. There's no room in our lives after we've stuffed it full of Facebook status messages and checked-off goals that didn't come from an authentic place. Empty crap taking up space that should be reserved for souls that are lost and souls waiting to be found. Isn't that ironic. Empty crap taking up space. We pay so much for all this emptiness crammed into tiny spaces that we have no room left for ourselves.

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