To ‘sit with’ you have to look into the gap in your understanding, not drive the conversation, not know where it’s going. Not know beforehand at all where it’s heading. – Lia Purpura, “On Looking Away: A Panoramic”
Most trips have a starting and ending point. Whatever happens in the middle may be neat or messy, but it doesn’t affect the final outcome. The ending point, which may be your grandmother’s house or your own, remains the same. The flat tire, the argument with your husband or kids – none of that matters.
A different approach is required with some pursuits. Relationships are one. Writing and other art forms are another. They ask you to be still. They request that you let go of your tidy borders and order and allow the ending to come on its own. You have to “sit with” a thing, be that thing your beloved or the words you put on a page.
“Sitting with” is no easy feat; you have to embrace the silence found in that act. You have to admit the “gap in your understanding.” More importantly, you have to strive not to fill that gap with everything you do know. You have to be quiet. You have to listen, really, really listen. You have no phone or computer in this space. The notifications and dings and messages retreat into the background. You look at the night sky, and you see Orion with his belt. You see the bears. You find yourself thinking of the myths surrounding some of the constellations, and you find yourself –
You find yourself in a place you didn’t know you were going but somehow know you were headed all along. You just got lost on the way. You were too busy and distracted with your errands and day-to-day life to recognize the ending you needed, the ending you could only find by being still, “sitting with.”
Image: Jason Eppink (Creative Commons)