Where Choice Lives

Hanging Out There a Little Longer

Sometimes we don’t know what is waiting for us, yet we sense that something is there. Beneath the surface, underneath words said and not said, hidden in our dreams. A message, an invitation, perhaps even a summons.

And so it was for me at the end of March when I chose to take a three-week pause from writing here on Substack. I could sense that something was waiting, yet it felt elusive, slippery, just out of my grasp. I knew I needed to create some empty space, both in my inner and outer worlds so that whatever it was could emerge. It was a conscious choice.

Photo by Ümit Bulut on Unsplash

As it turned out, it was, in fact, “choice” that wanted my attention. And furthermore, it wasn’t just a message or a kind invitation—it was a summons from my soul.

Stop.
Clear space.
Listen.
Sense.
Feel.
Now.

The first two weeks of my pause felt empty. In a good way. It was as if a new blank canvas was being prepared. Emptying out attachments—preconceived thoughts, longings, resentments—anything taking space away from clarity and living into the fullness of who, deep in the heart of my being, I know myself to be. I was being asked to trust that if I would allow the emptiness, the summons would appear. And that I would know where to go in my inner world and be shown what was being asked of me next in my outer world. Which would undoubtedly include what I would write about in my next series of essays.

Allowing the emptiness was not difficult. I’ve had enough experience over the years to know that if I welcome it instead of push against it, something important will happen. And so, I did.

The first gift I received was incredibly simple—a space to breathe. It wasn’t as if I didn’t already have space to breathe—I did. Yet a new space was beckoning. So, I entered this new space and took a breath. And then another. With no expectation for outcome. Trusting that if I allowed emptiness inside of me and breathed into it, the summons would reveal itself.

I kept breathing.
I kept listening.

At the beginning of the third week, the summons appeared. First through Rumi’s famous poem, “A Great Wagon”, and then through Etty Hillesum’s words on inner landscapes.

It became clear in the days that followed that it was time to write again, leading to the essays of April 22^nd and 29^th. The emptiness was speaking.

Yet now, five weeks in from when I began my pause, the summons to “choice” is still present. As I completed the second essay last week and asked the emptiness what was next, it called me back to writings of Viktor Frankl, Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, who himself was imprisoned in four different Nazi concentration camps: Theresienstadt, Auschwitz, Dachau, and Turkheim. His wife, his parents, and other family members died in those camps. Yet he survived. Which, of course, makes Frankl’s wisdom even more extraordinary and potent.

Among Viktor Frankl’s most famous words are these:

Between stimulus and response, there is a space.
In that space is our power to choose our response.
In our response lies our growth and our freedom.
~
When we are no longer able to change a situation,
we are challenged to change ourselves.
~
Everything can be taken from a man but one thing:
the last of the human freedoms—
to choose one’s attitude
in any given set of circumstances,
to choose one’s own way.

—Viktor Frankl

Frankl’s words brought me full circle back to Rumi’s field beyond wrongdoing and rightdoing and Etty Hillesum’s inner landscapes. And to all that continues to break open daily in the world around us.

Ultimately, his words brought me back to the summons:
Choice.

Which is somehow opening me to further liberation deep inside.

It’s not that I haven’t known liberation until now, or that I’ve never consciously chosen to set aspects of my deeper inner being free. It’s just that somehow there were always “conditions” around that freedom. And realistically, maybe there always will be, to some degree. Yet the emptiness of those first two weeks of pause peeled away more layers of “careful.” More layers of expectations. My own as well as others’.

And so, I’ve been practicing hanging out longer in the space between stimulus and response—the space of choice. Being more conscious of when I slip back into the field of right and wrong, good or bad. Because that’s the field where I more easily lose touch with the longer-term view or can become trapped in my own limited thinking and feeling. I’m choosing to walk even further out into that field beyond wrongdoing and rightdoing. Witnessing more than interpreting. And noticing how my response impacts others. It’s a practice.

I’m also surprised once again at how few of my conscious choices are focused on action. When my focus is on figuring out what to do, my choices feel limited. Yet when I take a breath and embrace the presence I’m being asked to embody, I land in that space between stimulus and response and recognize that I can choose how I will show up. Possibilities open. And I have a greater chance of making a difference in what is happening.

Taking Frankl’s insights a step further, I realize that when I claim my power to choose how I show up, I tap into a higher wisdom within me that, in fact, knows the presence to embody and the path to walk. And that makes the choice of what to do or how to respond clearer.

And it all happens in that space between stimulus and response.

My practice, at least for now, begins with choosing which field I will stand in. When I stand in the field of right and wrong, I easily become guarded and over-protective of myself and my perspectives. Yet when I stand in the field beyond, I often realize that what I’m protecting, in truth, belongs to another time. It’s no longer relevant. And therein lies my growth and freedom.

What if I choose to be my own man,
to stand in my own integrity,
to show up in the fullness of
who I know myself to be?

I admit there are still times when I have to dig through the “protections” that I’ve layered on top of inner wisdom for a multitude of reasons that may, once upon a time, have been important. Yet in Rumi’s field beyond wrongdoing and rightdoing where all landscapes are within me, I can discern which reasons, if any, are still relevant. I can peel away layers that no longer serve and get to deeper wisdom waiting to be uncovered.

And so, I keep practicing—
staying a little longer in that space
between what happens and
how I meet it.

Breathing.
Listening.
Sensing.
Long enough to choose.

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Invitations

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