Welcome to a new week!
Hope you had a great week. It’s funny how the most mundane tasks can take your mind on a journey. Vacuuming for example…that’s what I was doing when I had to stop and write this down. You just never know where a LIFT is going to come from.
Welcome to The LIFT
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HORROR VACUI
“Nature abhors a vacuum.” I can still hear the voice of my high school science teacher with these four words. Mr. Boomer was a strange man. (Seriously. I don’t think he would be allowed to teach these days. He was that kind of strange.)
He would embarrass you if you didn’t follow instructions correctly. He had crazy props and used weird voices to make his points. He walked around making a goose puppet out of his arm that he used to deliver ‘goose eggs’ (zeros) to students who failed a test or assignment.
He was mean.
I also remember that he lived in a castle with a large pipe organ. He would host special events and a lot of the ‘nerdy’ kids got to spend time there at his castle. Looking back, I guess I wasn’t as nerdy as I thought. I never did get an invite. I would have been terrified to go there anyway. Spooky!
Today, while I was vacuuming the two empty rooms in our house, my mind drifted off to this concept - Nature abhors a vacuum.
Maybe it was because I was pushing the vacuum. Maybe it was because I was vacuuming an empty room. Maybe it was because I was thinking of what to put in this space.
Maybe it was because Mr. Boomer used a bit of terror to drill this physics concept into my head. It may be the only one I still remember. So, I guess he did his job.
Horror vacui is a hypothesis attributed to Aristotle. It roughly means that nature requires every space to be filled - and that there are no naturally-occurring empty spaces because denser surrounding material immediately and always fills a void.
Apparently, this concept has been debated over time, but it seems pretty obvious to me. Don’t you think? An empty space ALWAYS fills up. Whether we are talking about a room or a spot in our calendar. It’s like we can’t stand to see emptiness.
My husband and I have lived in our new place since the end of July, but it’s bigger than our last one and so months later, we still have a couple of empty spaces. Sure, we could have easily filled them by now, but rather than hurrying to fill them up, it’s like there is a part of me resisting it. Like I don’t want to let it go. I’m actually relishing in the emptiness.
It’s silly. I know. But after a major downsizing project five years ago, you can bet I won’t ever go back to that level of ‘stuff’ again. It makes you super selective about what you will and won’t put in a space.
At the same time, I realize that resistance is futile. These spaces are going to fill up…eventually. And, in truth, they aren’t of much use empty. It’s time to embrace the space.
The same thing is happening in the garage. My husband and I have shared a car for the last five years. I love our one-car lifestyle. And, it was handy throughout our move to have one side of our two-car garage empty for the process of moving. But this week, we filled that space with a golf cart.
I chuckle now when I see this picture. It was inevitable.
It takes a lot of intention to hold space around you.
It also takes a lot of intention to allow yourself to fill the space around you. To take up space. To stretch yourself. To grow.
I guess it’s all about choosing what’s in the space you have. And what’s not.
AMORE VACUI
This time with my vacuum got me thinking about my love of space - whether in a room, my schedule or my own head.
I love open space. Blue skies. Expansive views.
I don’t think I’ve always been that way, but open space is definitely something I value more and more with age.
There is beauty in emptiness.
Rest. Perspective. Grace. Peace. Potential. Opportunity.
It can also be a scary thing. A lot of us carry fear in emptiness…We are afraid to sit still. To be silent. To breathe.
I recently sat on a rock in Joshua Tree National Park with my husband to stargaze. There was a moment when it was SO quiet and SO dark that I actually felt fear creep up in my body. It was scary there in the dark. Alone. Even though I wasn’t alone at all.
It was TOO quiet. But, the more I sat with it, the more I observed the beauty of the darkness, the silence. And the darker it became, the more clear the stars appeared.
You have to sit with the darkness to see the stars. The silence to hear the song.
Sometimes you have to clear a space so you can create space for something bigger and better. And, sometimes you just have to sit in the emptiness for a bit.
Because no matter how empty it becomes, it will fill up. It’s inevitable.
Nature abhors a vacuum.
YOUR MISSION:
This week, I challenge you to explore the edge of emptiness. Maybe in a physical space. Maybe in your schedule. Or maybe just in your heart. Where do you get scared? Where do you need to allow something in? Where do you need to let something go?
IN SUMMARY:
It’s okay to be quiet. Still. Empty. Scared. And, it’s okay to let something new in. Even if that something is darkness - because even there - the stars are shining.
See you next week?
Wow! I'm so glad you vacuumed yesterday to inspire these thoughts. Amazing article - really hit home with me. I'll be pondering these thoughts for a while. (I'm amazed that Boomer inspired you so many years later.... ;-). And I love when long-time memories pop up as 'lessons' later in life. Happens to me, too -- in the least expected times.
Love these reflections on space and filling it.
It is the extremely low pressure that creates the vacuum that causes hurricanes 🌀 to rush around to fill it.
I remember years ago when my mom experienced a near death accident that this picture became more clear.
Like you said, for some reason we hate empty space or to feel emptiness. But during that horrific accident, I saw my mother empty and I saw how God rushed in to fill the space in her. It created a vacuum that drew people in to help her and surround her.
Outside of just being at peace in the present moment seated on the mercy seated at rest, outside of that space felt like chaos.
The same has been true as I navigate my destroyed WNC area, decimated by Helene. In the aftermath, while secluded in our neighborhood bubble without water, power, or cell phone service, we gathered around eachother and pulled our food resources and water resources to help eachother. We were emptied of our selves and God rushed in.
Outside our scope of knowing there was utter destruction and chaos.
Again, the picture of the vacuum and how God loves an empty vessel.
As I have floundered with my words on how to write my next substack article (I haven't written since pre-helene), I think this is the perfect parable to start.
Thank you. You have reminded me once again of this amazing picture.
I will use some of this response in my post.
Keep writing. You never know who needs to hear it.