About Space

I was a self-proclaimed lover of the move. I stocked up on change of address forms. I learned to memorize new information fast and thrived on improving my efficiency with each new adventure that loomed each time I was to move. I can not recall an instance in which I didn’t fervidly find friends. If I was in the space, they were in the space. And we were in this space together. All of us. All ‘us together.

Space is our oldest friend. I’m sure it was there being space, somewhere, anywhere long before I was here. And well before I knew a space of my own. From then, until now space will be there. We leave home in grand fashion. I was 18 years and 6 months old when I did an “about face” on my first known space. I left home. I went to find a space of my own. I learned that we who leave home will then find that when we return home, the space has grown smaller. Olfactory sense assures us our memory is straight. Though perhaps ahead of it all and certainly ahead in its gait. (Galloping fast on the exhaust of false pride is a Quadra-ped on official business.)

While I lived in Japan, I got used to being in smaller, closer quarters with a higher number of people than typical of my U.S. experiences. Elevators, trains and city sidewalks were all packed tightly with people and soon, I wasn’t uncomfortable with it at all.

It was during the 3 years I lived there that I found out that spaces, as in geographical location, can be graded in various degrees of sanctity. I visited many such places, but when I visited the WW2-era memorial in Hiroshima, the spirit of reverence was palpably thick. I know for a fact that certain spaces can be sacred.

The space I am in right now as I write this is a tale of twist. As I always moved with ease each time, this last time I broke my pinkie toe and I was unable to do anything for all the pain. My sister came to my aide and did every little thing. It was the first time I moved into a space in which I didn’t physically put anything anywhere at all. Five years later, this still doesn’t feel like my space. It doesn’t quite feel right. And how could I have missed the difference in square footage? I remain in this space and proclaim that I live with these regrets in a repeating cycle like that movie Groundhog’s Day. In the end, I simply hope that I’ll begin to find the gems of wisdom and edification of soul usually awarded to those who show improv-group quality of suffering in like manner. (Tom Hanks in Cast Away?)

Space is the most tangible of our collective intangibles. I think we all know what I mean?

“Don’t cross ‘this’ line!” As indicated when a cartoon character screams this while scratching a line in the adjoined patch of Earth on which the foes have taken stance.

Institutions, or mass facilities, like schools, erected commonly like a fortress, or citadel: a safe place. The commonality of a space’s shape is found stemming from significant conflict and eminent struggle and is thus manifested all upon the space of the globe’s circumference. You can go look for yourself. Look to the closest library in your space. The space you are in, right now. Even now.

In real life, we’ve felt the prick of shift in the formerly accepted boundaries regarding personal space. It does feel like summer camp’s bully shoved us unfairly out of our canoe and we must flounder stupidly until we can right ourselves. But I feel the sharing of these burdens among countless kindred spirits here in my space. To each their own space: a reason and space for every place.