“There is something greater and purer than what the mouth utters. Silence illuminates our souls, whispers to our hearts, and brings them together…”
Khalil Gibran
The Space In Between
During a yoga retreat at Casa Cuadrau in the Spanish Pyrenees last year, one of the participants shared that she had realised how little time she gave herself between one activity and another. She was constantly rushing from one thing to the next without pausing.
I couldn’t help thinking how familiar this is for many of us. In the busyness of everyday life, it is easy to neglect the space in between. Filling our time can feel more natural, purposeful and familiar, and in our commitment to responsibilities and the people we care for, we can forget what it feels like to simply stop.
Yet beneath all the noise there is space. We rarely pause long enough to experience the deep, nourishing rest that allows us to replenish our reserves.
There can be another reason we resist stillness. When we create space, we may also encounter feelings we have been keeping at bay. Overactivity can become a way of avoiding what is uncomfortable within us. Perhaps one reason I found myself drawn to the mountains in the first place.
Retreat offers an opportunity to be with ourselves more intimately. Mountains have a way of laying us bare. There is little to hide behind when surrounded by such vastness. An open landscape invites us to step more fully into ourselves, while a mountain forest enfolds us in a reassuring alpine embrace, quietly whispering to the heart. It can feel like being held by a wise and supportive friend who simply listens.
Just as Danny, our mountain guide, carefully led us across changing terrain, it is sometimes necessary to help my patients navigate difficult inner landscapes. In therapy, creating a safe and contained space can allow emotions and tension to emerge and find expression. These can be vulnerable and cathartic moments. Like pauses in music, silence can hold an extraordinary depth of feeling, sometimes enough to reach and transform the deepest parts of ourselves.
Without space, our emotions can be like flowers pushing through a crack in a stone pavement. We may give ourselves little room to stop or feel, but our inner world has a way of bringing deeper layers of feeling to the surface. Often this happens through physical or emotional tension: shoulders folding protectively around the heart and lungs, clenched back muscles, tightness in the chest, or abdominal discomfort.
You don’t need to travel to the Spanish Pyrenees to find this space, although I would highly recommend a visit to Casa Cuadrau. Stillness can be cultivated through small, intentional rituals: sitting quietly in the garden, walking in a park or forest, or listening to a beautiful piece of music. What matters is finding something that creates a little room around you and within you.
Simple yoga stretches can help us broaden and lengthen the physical body, releasing tension and creating a sense of spaciousness even when life feels constricted. Deep, slow breathing can help us reconnect with ourselves and make room for our feelings, while also supporting the parasympathetic nervous system and the body’s natural relaxation response.
In yoga and qigong, there is an awareness of the space between the breaths… that quiet moment of stillness between inhalation and exhalation. It is a calm point from which the next breath arises. In the same way, creating pauses in our lives can provide a quiet centre from which thoughts and feelings can surface.
When we are tense or anxious, our breathing can become fast and shallow, mirroring the sense that there is no room to pause. Slowing the breath can help interrupt this pattern and restore a sense of inner space.
Perhaps the invitation is simply to notice the space in between: between one activity and the next, one breath and another, one thought and the next.
When we begin to make room for stillness, we may discover that it is not something we have to travel somewhere to find. It can accompany us into even the busiest days, quietly changing their rhythm, their breath, and perhaps, in time, the way we inhabit ourselves.
