The Energy of Spaciousness

Making Room for What’s Next

There is something about these last weeks of August that feels different.

Summer is still here, but you can sense the shift beginning. Vacations are winding down. Families are getting ready for back-to-school. Fall schedules are starting to take shape. There is an energy of movement just around the corner—but for a moment, we are still here, in this beautiful space between what has been and what is about to begin.

I’ve been feeling that spaciousness in my own life this week.

I’ve been catching up on errands and things I’ve been meaning to do, spending time with family, and allowing myself to move through my days at a gentler pace. And rather than feeling the need to fill every open moment, I’ve found myself settling into it.

At the same time, I can feel a pull.

I can’t quite tell you toward what. I don’t know what it looks like yet or where it’s leading. It’s simply an inner knowing that something is shifting—that something new may be beginning to take shape.

Normally, when space opens up, our instinct is to fill it. We make another plan. Start another project. Add something else to the list.

But lately, I’ve been wondering:

What if we didn’t?

What if instead of immediately filling the open spaces in our lives, we allowed ourselves to experience them?

To breathe a little deeper.

To listen a little more closely.

To let the spaciousness envelop us.

Maybe space isn’t something we need to fill.

Maybe the space itself is the gift.

When Life Creates Space for Us

We often think of space as something empty—an opening that needs to be filled.

An open spot on the calendar needs an appointment. A quiet afternoon needs a plan. A slower week means we should finally tackle the list of things we’ve been putting off.

We are so accustomed to measuring our lives by what we are doing that simply being in open space can feel uncomfortable.

But what if spaciousness isn’t emptiness at all?

What if it’s an energy of its own?

There are times when we intentionally create space in our lives, and then there are times when life creates it for us. Plans slow down. Work becomes quiet. People go away. Schedules change. The momentum we’ve grown accustomed to suddenly isn’t there.

Our instinct may be to push against it.

But perhaps life is asking us to do exactly the opposite.

Allow it.

There is a difference between feeling stuck and being given space. When we’re stuck, we often feel contracted. Spaciousness feels different. There’s an openness to it. A sense that although we may not know exactly what is coming, there is room for something new to emerge.

The Space Between Seasons

Late August seems to carry this energy naturally.

Summer is still here, but we can already feel fall approaching. Vacations are winding down. Families are preparing for back-to-school. People will soon return to their regular schedules, routines will begin again, and the energy around us will start moving faster.

But we’re not quite there yet.

There is this beautiful little space between seasons.

A breath.

And perhaps we don’t need to rush through it.

Nature never seems concerned about these transitions. It doesn’t question whether enough is happening. It simply moves through its rhythms—expansion and contraction, growth and rest, activity and stillness.

Maybe we are meant to have those rhythms too.

Sometimes we are blooming.

Sometimes we are creating.

Sometimes we are moving quickly and saying yes to everything arriving in front of us.

And sometimes we are simply being given room to breathe.

Making Room for What We Cannot Yet See

I’ve also been noticing that while things are quiet externally, I don’t necessarily feel quiet internally.

There is a subtle anticipation—not anxious anticipation, but an intuitive sense that something is forming.

I don’t know what it is yet.

And maybe I’m not supposed to.

Our intuition doesn’t always give us the entire picture. Sometimes it comes as a knowing before there is anything tangible to know. A pull toward something. An idea that keeps returning. A feeling of expansion. A sense that one chapter is shifting even before the next one has revealed itself.

The temptation is to immediately ask:

What does this mean?

What’s coming?

What am I supposed to do?

But perhaps the invitation is simply to notice.

To listen.

To remain open.

Because when we immediately fill every open space in our lives, there isn’t much room for anything unexpected to enter.

Sometimes we have to create—or be given—space before we can hear what is trying to emerge.

Space Is Not Emptiness

This week, I’m reminding myself that a quiet calendar isn’t necessarily an empty one.

Rest has value.

Time with family has value.

Running errands and tending to ordinary life has value.

Sitting outside with nowhere I need to be has value.

And having a little more room to hear my own thoughts, feel my own energy, and notice what is stirring beneath the surface has value too.

We don’t always need to be producing something for a season of our lives to have purpose.

Sometimes the purpose is simply making room.

Room for inspiration.

Room for clarity.

Room for healing.

Room for a new relationship, opportunity, idea, direction, or version of ourselves that we haven’t even imagined yet.

We may not know what will eventually occupy that space.

And we don’t have to.

A Practice in Spaciousness

Sometime this week, intentionally leave a little space unfilled.

It doesn’t have to be an entire day. Give yourself twenty minutes, an hour, or an afternoon without immediately deciding what you should accomplish.

Put down your phone. Step outside. Sit somewhere peaceful. Take a walk without listening to anything. Let yourself simply be.

Take a few slow breaths and ask yourself:

Where is life creating more space for me right now?

Am I allowing that space—or am I rushing to fill it?

What am I sensing that I may not yet be able to see?

And finally:

What if I trusted that I don’t need to know what’s next?

Don’t force an answer.

Notice what comes.

A word. An image. A feeling. Or perhaps nothing at all.

The practice isn’t about figuring out the future. It’s about becoming comfortable enough with the open space that something new has room to find you.

Making Room

Maybe that’s what this quieter season is teaching me.

I don’t need to rush ahead simply because I can feel something changing.

I don’t need to know exactly what’s next.

And I don’t need to fill every opening simply because it’s there.

I can enjoy my family. Run my errands. Rest. Take care of the little things. Let August be August.

I can allow the spaciousness to envelop me.

Because perhaps what looks like an empty space in our lives isn’t empty at all.

Perhaps it’s an opening.

And sometimes, before something new can arrive, we first have to make room for it.

Much love,

Laura