THE SPACES WE DON’T FILL

I believe we're live in the cadre. Hi, I'm Kathy and my handle on the cover sphere is speaking one of my favorite. My go-to topic is Harbor Pilots because I love the symbolism. There we go, of the idea that we are uniquely here for one another in the mental health picture and on Thursday's caregiver day in cadre, we're an anchor for people who are hurting and we become a harbor for those who are lost, and because I live right next to Lake Erie, I like to collect sea glass, beach glass, if you will, and I like to photograph light houses and sailboats.

Recently I was invited to go sailing a busy that day, so I hope I get the invite extended again before the water gets to win tree. Lake Erie uniquely is very shallow and the temperature changes quickly and the waves can really whisk up quickly in a stiff wind. I don't know why I'm talking so quietly, I feel a hushed atmosphere today in a good way, probably because of what I have to share with you about not filling all the empty spaces, not always necessary. Oh, I see some people joining, thank you.

Work in recovery has joined true north, morning so glad to be here, live, not feeling well. True north, maybe that's why I'm feeling kind of a sacred pause and not filling spaces and not fixing things, but just being with the discord, the unquiet and the things not fixed. And I sure hope you're feeling better soon, do you like my dog mom earrings? Yeah, pause, these are handmade by a gal that I know in the state of Georgia. And, let me put my nose, sorry that was scary, my face moved right in there didn't it.

In addition to my dog mom earrings and my little corgi is curled up over there in her dog bed, I have something called positivity and kindness and positivity is spelled P-A-W-S. With my mug, on my mug and in my mug is Pete's coffee sun catcher my own roast. Gracie just has to be a part of cod race some days. I am wearing my sweatshirt that says cut a lot of coffee and just feeling the echo and the under. Hello, I do hope you're laughing because I find this helpful. The unraveling if you will, kind of like a comfy sweater that is loose in the scenes and a little shabby and very soft because it's your favorite.

And there's something not finished and perfect about it and that's good and that's okay. Thanks to North the Cross, my friend made that for me. She asked me, you know what, thank you for bringing that up because maybe I'll bring that closer to the camera someday for my life. For my birthday a few years ago, my friend Sue said, I want you to pick some things that are precious to you and give them to me about a month before your birthday. So I knew she was up to something and she's an artist. So on that cross are some precious things to my heart.

So there's a lot of meaning with that gift. Thanks for mentioning that. The quiet art of witnessing is what I want to read to you today. It's kind of a prosy poem. I call things poems when they don't rhyme, maybe sometimes especially when they don't rhyme because the arrangement of words to communicate strength or beauty or resilience or encouragement is to me poetic. I found this, the quiet art of witnessing and it is by one of my very favorite authors unknown. This author goes also under the name anonymous.

We find treasures by anonymous, don't we? So I looked up witnessing in my online Thesaurus and it says discerning the ability to notice to be aware of, and I know you guys know this, but I just wanted to flesh out the word witnessing so we could feel its rich, deep texture. The quiet art of examining or glimpsing something, holding it to the light and beholding its beauty. Heating is also a way of witnessing and being mindful. To do that, we need to be aware of not filling all the spaces and that is basically my message today, compliments of anonymous.

Shall I read to you? I'm not here to fix every broken thing. Some things just need a soft place to land. We live in a world obsessed with the next step, the upgrade, the glow up, the fix. But what if just for a moment we allowed things to be as they are? Not because they're perfect, not because they're finished, but because they're enough. We rush to tidy up our emotions. We answer texts in a quick hurry. We rush to patch every silence with noise, but not everything needs our intervention. Did you hear that?

Did I hear that? Not everything needs my intervention. Not everything needs your fix it mode. Not every awkward pause begs to be filled. And not every moment of sadness needs to be cured. What if instead of changing, improving or perfecting, we simply witnessed? What if? Let the mug with the chip on the rim stay on the shelf ready to be filled with your favorite brew. Let the unanswered question linger in the air for a little longer. Let your plans be soft outlines instead of rigid maps. What? Let your mind wander without pinning it down to a purpose.

Some of the most beautiful things in life unfold slowly. Like tea steeping, like trust forming, like a heart healing. They don't demand, they don't rush, they just become. Today, maybe we simply let something be. And watch what grows in the space you didn't fill. An invitation not to rush to fill the spaces, but your plans be soft outlines instead of rigid maps. And how about that line, let the unanswered question linger in the air a little longer. And not everything needs our intervention, leaving the spaces like unfilled, unanswered, unresolved.

It's enough. Hi, Rick. Hi, Jules. Hi, everybody. Guess what I'm doing tomorrow? Tomorrow I'm going to Kinzu Bridge. I have a picture of it on my laptop. Let me see if I can move this over. Isn't that beautiful? Can you see it? I hope there's not a glare. This is in Mount Jewett, Pennsylvania, about two and a half hours south and I believe east of where I live here in Erie. Kinzu Bridge is a viaduct bridge that was originally a train trestle. Look how high up it is, you guys. Now if you look careful layer, if you just believe what I'm telling you, see where the folks are standing, there is a plexiglass there.

It's called a skywalk. So you look down right where your feet are and you can see below the bridge into the depths of the canyon that is forest floor covered with forest. And if you've been with me long enough, you know I like to take a forest bath which means to immerse myself into the woods and feel the texture and smell the smells and be swept away by the beauty that is the forest. Well now it's in the glory of the changing leaves and my friend Laura called me up. This is remarkable. First of all, the fact that she wants to go and walk on a bridge that's very very high up in the sky is remarkable because my friend Laura does not do bridges.

She does not trust them. She does not like them. She feels unsafe but she wants to try this because she loves the glory of the leaves and she said, "Wouldn't that be a wild view?" I said, "Yes it will." I went there as a child. Years ago, a teenager and then later as a young mom actually and then we had a big tornado come through and it basically destroyed the bridge and there were pictures everywhere and it was plastered to the floor of the forest from the vicious winds destroyed. And so as many years later that it was restored to a former glory and even better with the sky bridge.

So I'm very eager to report to you how it went with my friend Laura who doesn't like bridges and who is actually feeling brave enough to step over the sky bridge and look down into the beauty of the leaves. That's tomorrow. Feeling safe in places where we also need to feel brave. And care of each other and the doing of it. To wrap things up, I have some more poetry, that's Prozi poetry, oddly enough. This is also penned by the talented anonymous. And it dovetails with what we're talking about today of not feeling that we have to feel the spaces.

Someone saying no thank you true north heights, especially the way you're feeling now. Let me read this, it's not very long and it's pithy and steeped with meaning. You are not a machine. You're a soul, a soul who needs music, connection, sunsets, laughter and small pockets of joy. Prioritize them like your life depends on it because it does. Life isn't meant to be a cycle of stress and survival. Pause, look up. And let the sunset remind you, you're here to live not just hustle. Life is not a to do list, it's a gift.

A lot more slowly, hug longer, laugh louder, love deeper. The clock may be ticking, but your presence is timeless. We've been conditioned to believe that constant measured productivity equals worth, but humans weren't designed for endless output. We need moments of wonder. We need moments of connection and rest not as rewards for hard work, but as essential ingredients for a meaningful life. Author unknown. The clock may be ticking, but your presence is timeless. I do thank you for your presence here.

Please me in this conversation that we've enjoyed. And as my friend and fellow contributor, Rick Cram likes to say, I'm a holder of hope for you. We're an anchor for those who are hurting and a harbor for those who are lost. And if we're not busy brushing to fill spaces or unresolved things, that means we're available to help each other safely into port. I wish you wellness and mindfulness and hope and healing and lots of quiet pauses where you don't rush to fill the spaces. I'll see you next week on Harbor Pilots here in the cadre.

Bye.