Embracing the Space Between: A Journey Through Endings and Beginnings

Great music is as much about the space in between the notes as it is about the notes themselves.

~ Sting

There is a pause, a stillness that lingers in the moments between an ending and a beginning. A hush. It's the space after the final note of a song and before the first beat of silence truly sinks in. It’s the stillness of winter before spring sets in. In this quiet, we wait—uncertain, open, vulnerable.

We often mark our lives by significant events: the moment of our birth, the year we graduated, the day our child was born, or the time we lost a job. These milestones are important, but it’s the in-between moments that shape us. We rarely discuss this space, even though we spend much of our lives there. We talk about the chapters, but not the blank pages that separate them.

The in-between is rarely comfortable. We want to know where to place our feet, but sometimes the path is unclear. The ground may still be shifting beneath us. This period of groundlessness, this not-knowing, can last minutes, days, months, or even years. Rushing to the next thing can lead to missteps and regrets. More importantly, we may miss the wisdom and insights waiting for us.

How do we learn to trust this space, this unfolding? The space between is not empty. It’s where integration happens. It’s where grief softens. It’s where our inner compass quietly resets itself. The remnants of the past settle into memory, and the seeds of what’s next begin to stir, unseen.

Nature shows us this rhythm if we pay attention. Winter strips the trees bare, but it doesn’t rush spring. The moon disappears before it is made whole again. In every cycle, there is a pause—a necessary silence before something new can rise.

Mindfulness is sometimes called the “wisdom of insecurity,” a phrase borrowed from the title of a book by Alan Watts. When we rest in present-moment awareness, we begin to see clearly the ever-changing, ungraspable, unpredictable, ungovernable nature of samsara. Over time, mindfulness nurtures wisdom and compassion. It helps us develop a deeper sense of trust and freedom, even amid uncertainty and change.

I remember my Guru, paraphrasing Aristotle, once saying, “Nature abhors a vacuum. It will fill it with something.” Sometimes life creates that vacuum through loss, heartbreak, or change. Other times, we must create it ourselves by letting go of what no longer serves us. This act makes space for something new to take root.

It’s sacred to sit in the quiet after something ends. We should not rush toward the next thing. Instead, we should let the experience settle and allow our hearts to catch up with our lives. It’s sacred to feel unsure, to wait, to breathe, and to listen. Eventually, the next beginning will come. It always does. However, it will arrive more gently if we’ve taken the time to honor the space that came before it.

What have you recently let go of—or what has let go of you? And what does the space left behind feel like?

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