Four lessons from space
Word of the Year wisdom, visible in hindsight
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Only now as I re-read that title do I hear the implication that this is about lessons from the cosmos, which... not exactly, but also, kind of?
I landed on my word of the year, Space, last January. I held it front and center in my mind's eye, between my eyebrows, for about six weeks—and then proceeded to not think about it again one single time until this week when I printed off Susannah Conway's Unravel Your Year workbook and pulled up to my dining room table ready to look back on 2023.
But even if I didn't give my word much conscious attention throughout the past year, that didn't stop Space from stitching itself into my days and decisions.
In spite of the illusion that I'm the one who painstakingly brainstorms, lists, agonizes, and whittles my way down to the ideal word each year, I've come to believe it is in fact my word who chooses me. How else can I explain the ways my life unfolds each year in a series of unforeseen holes that only a Play- or Trust- or Space-shaped peg can fill?
Through a year of house projects (some by choice, others out of necessity), evolving relationships (some deepened, others fractured), creative awakenings and collective grief, Space was there like a distant lighthouse: glowing with soft support, whispering the wisdom I needed and lighting the path even when I was too distracted to notice.
Below are a few of the most potent lessons from Space, which have only found me and made themselves visible to me now that I'm looking back on the year.
1️⃣ Good things (often) take time.
When we moved into this house a year and a half ago, I remember feeling an electric mix of excitement and impatience. “I have so many ideas for what this space could be! ...and I want them all to materialize RIGHT NOW.”
Creating a home and a space that feels the way we want it to feel takes time. This is a fact that I conveniently forgot when we first bought the house, and proceeded to resent for a while. Unpacking boxes, moving things into the attic, living in the space long enough to figure out what furniture we actually need, and then incrementally saving up to procure those pieces... none of it happens quickly.
But through the process of creating and warming our space piece by piece, I'm remembering that a gradual pace is what makes reaching each new milestone feel so satisfying. (That, plus even if I HAD magically gotten everything I wanted on day one, I would've quickly realized that my assumptions about how we'd use the space and what we needed were very, very wrong. Learning that stuff takes time, too.)
Not having the budget to create instant gratification has forced us to make more considered purchasing decisions and take our time—time that has allowed us (me) to remember how to practice patience, savor the process, and set down the myth of arriving all at once.
2️⃣ New rhythms + habits don't just happen because we want them to.
Taking on too many shiny ambitions at once has long been my achilles heel—piling new habits, routines, and projects onto my plate like a kid let loose in a buffet. I know intellectually that this strategy, satisfying as it feels, is destined to fail. And yet every time, I'm seduced by the voice that says: this time will be different.
But what's interesting is that in 2023, I actually did add several new things to my creative plate that stuck: I started attending daily Writer's Hour every morning (which I still do!), I started and sustained a new Substack—and with it, a new consistent-ish writing and publishing practice.
How? By clearing space.
Pushing other sparkly things aside and definitively setting them down, even when it was agonizing. Not just figuratively, but practically: I stepped back from a bunch of businessy ambitious (a sparkly class I'd been taking about building up funnels and systems, plans for creating an info product, a business-building mindset) all so I could focus on building up my writing practice instead.
As a Manifesting Generator, I give myself a lot of latitude to follow whatever feels sparkly. And yet, too many sparkles leave me feeling unfocused and overstimulated, unable to follow through. Making space for the ones I most want to focus on by setting others down (and trusting that they'll be there for me if and when I decide I want to return to them) has led me to the joys of traction and momentum.
3️⃣ Our bodies know when it's time to let go.
This was a year in which my heart and mind fought hard to stay tethered to certain longstanding fixtures of comfort, while my body sent up flares I could only ignore for so long.
Ultimately, I set down an entire 'building a business' ethos that lent years of purpose and direction to my creative endeavors. I stepped back from a longstanding friendship out of necessity. I can feel myself inching closer to finally quitting Instagram. With each of these, it’s taken time and a hell of a lot of resistance before I could entertain the idea that letting go might be the answer.
It's a hard thing to wrap your head around—the realization that this thing that once added so much to your life might now be the thing you need space from in order to reclaim your attention, your sanity, your self. And that's the thing, isn't it? Deciding it's time to leave doesn't have to mean that thing was 'bad' to begin with. The body knows when it's time for a divergent path, a change of scenery—and choosing it is a way to remember and honor our agency.
Interestingly, I'm starting to believe these little nuggets only seem so clear and resonant now BECAUSE I didn't spend all year hellbent on finding them.
Had I moved through 2023 scrupulously scanning the minutes, hours, and days for whatever learnings or meaning Space might be trying to show me, I don't think I would've been as receptive to the lessons it actually had for me—lessons that now reveal themselves, in clear, distilled fashion with the benefit of hindsight. Materializing in the rear view mirror, potent and pure, as if directly from the cosmos.
Did you choose a word in 2023, and what wisdom can you spot in the rear view mirror? I'd love to hear in the comments.
💭 On My Mind
Leaving Instagram. I’ve been thinking about it for months, inspired by folks like
and and who have publicly shared about their decision to do the same. Mar’s essay in particular was a resonant one for me: “I know I value seeing others publicly grapple with the benefits of reaching the people and what it takes from us - our sanity, our self worth, our pleasure, our sense of self, our sovereignty.”
🐰🕳️ Relishing
If you haven’t caught on, I must be in the running for being The Internet’s Biggest Michael Hobbes fan. And since I’m all caught up on both of his current (excellent) podcasts, I’ve been going down some deep dark rabbit holes from his former podcast with Sarah Marshall, You’re Wrong About. In particular, their (extremely drawn out) series on the OJ Simpson trial is freakin excellent. Dark, but excellent.
✨ Weekly Dose of Internet Delight
Until next time,
Michelle
I've love love loved watching these lessons emerge for you this past year and I have FELT the shift. So thanks to past Michelle for somehow keeping space at the forefront without keeping space at the forefront 😅