Extra•Ordinary ~ Reclaiming Spaciousness
A call to rest and reflect. Why slowing down, tuning in, and doing less might be your most radical act.
“To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders.” ~Lao Tzu
My dear one,
Lately, I’ve been working on brevity — not as a shortcut, but as a practice in clarity. A way to get to the heart of what matters most, with purpose, and to stay true to the essence of how I show up.
This is no small task for a wordy-bird like me.
As it pertains to writing, I find this especially challenging. I obsess over the fluidity of ideas as they move through carefully crafted sentences. I’m prone to taking meandering back roads: stopping to ponder beautiful ideas, taking snapshots of meaningful words, and mapping the scenic route with engaging prose.
Meanwhile, the world dishes up so much content at a don’t-blink-or-you’ll-be-left-behind Autobahn pace. We’re lucky if something can hold our attention for more than thirty seconds — the time it takes to skim for the juiciest bits before moving on to the next thing.
We scroll, scan, and consume, often without fully digesting what we take in. And in the process, we lose something vital: reflection, depth, and presence.
This frenetic buzz of energy is fed by systems that have conditioned us to treat everything as a commodity.
That way of consuming simply can’t sustain us anymore. It’s breaking our minds and dividing us as a society. From this, we’ve honed the fine art of reaction rather than response.
Spaciousness is what we need more of: courting it, creating it, holding it, receiving it, and being determined in protecting it. So we can consider and choose with integrity how we want to move through our lives.
The sort of spaciousness I’m referring to is more like elbow room: mosh pit-style. Unapologetic, a little wild, and worth a few bruises in service of our spiritual wellbeing. This is the kind of clearing that offers time to truly inhabit the most tender of spaces: the heart. So we can open up to deep listening and rest.
I’m focused on the micro scale, translating big truths into smaller, more digestible pieces. How can I convey big ideas with fewer words, leaving space for contemplation? It doesn’t all need to happen at once; that leads to overwhelm.
It also doesn’t necessarily mean purging. We don’t always have to be digging for what’s wrong in our lives. Though there is certainly a time and place for letting go. The shift can be subtle. Instead, you can ask:
What feels right, right now?
Where can you give yourself permission to do less, and simply be?
What happens when you decouple your value as a human from your output?
Is your worth dependent on others validating what you do or create?
What would spaciousness feel like if you trusted yourself completely?
These questions get at the heart of the matter. Collectively, they’re the viper strike — the swift clarity that comes when we get to the root of things.
This is light making its way through the cracks. Illuminating the dark corners of both the mind and the culture we move through. This is when it pays to get still. To sit with discomfort. To detach from the idea of being a “consumable” product.
This is surrender.
It’s an invitation to release the urge to always be in motion. To stop proving — through productivity — that your humanness has value only because you uphold a crumbling system.
It’s time to break the unconscious cycle of conditioning. To acknowledge our personal power to do something (even if it’s small). To create healthy boundaries. To invite new perspectives. To deepen our listening skills. To demand a more equitable future built on reciprocity.
My current take on brevity? Get to the point with even more intention. Use ideas that wake people from their slumber. Take action to reclaim the sacred space within. Take back our collective peace and our time. Connect with others who are breaking free from the heaviness of these times and finding rest for their weary bones through resistance and shared solidarity.
Wake up, sleepy head. We have work to do in the world.
If this resonates with you, I’d love to invite you deeper into the conversation.
I’ve been curating offerings that reflect these themes: rest, reclamation, and moving through life with more spaciousness and soul. You can explore what’s unfolding in the latest Restful Rebel update. I’m also launching a new, more interactive project and an opportunity to gather in real time. I’ll be sharing more soon, and I’d love for you to be part of it.
Reaching toward what matters,
(((tina d.)))
Practice
Inviting Spaciousness
Spaciousness doesn’t always come with silence or stillness.
Sometimes it arrives through a single breath between obligations.
Other times, it reveals itself in the moment you decide not to fill the gap.
This is about noticing what takes up space, internally and externally, and sensing whether it truly belongs.
Take a moment.
Pause.
Breathe.
Feel your feet on the floor.
The texture of fabric against your skin.
The weight of your body.
The sound of your own breath, just as it is.
Let yourself FULLY arrive.
There may be parts of life that feel overly full.
There may be things taking up space that no longer feel aligned.
There may be a longing for more room. To stretch, to feel, to rest, to be.
There’s no need to force clarity.
Just notice.
And in the noticing, space begins to open.
Perspective
I’m currently hooked on this channel. It’s absolutely gorgeous and beautifully illustrates the art of presence, spaciousness, and slow living. There are no words, just stunning eye candy!
Country Life Vlog - Cooking Spring Kutabs | Spring Food From Nature:
Pep Talk
If you’ve been taught that your worth is in your output, spaciousness will feel like rebellion.
But rest isn’t withdrawal; it’s a return home.
Every time you pause, you remind the world (and yourself) that you’re not a machine. You’re a living body, a whole being.
Hot Tip: You don’t have to prove your value by filling every moment. Let emptiness be sacred. Let stillness speak.
That’s not giving up. That’s remembering who you are.
Power Statement
I choose spaciousness over striving.
I release the story that I must earn my rest.
My breath, my time, and my being are sacred.
I came back to read the inviting spaciousness section again, my whole self opens to calm as I invite your words in.