Learning to live in the Gap is not always pleasant or reassuring. There are times I still want to hold on to the side of the pool, unsure about the attraction of free-fall letting go. The Gap is essentially a place I must be willing to be alone without support, and that is sometimes difficult, sometimes challenging. I am unsure.
It is so gratifying when I encounter a fellow traveler who, in spite of being unsure, is willing to enter the same unclinging, uncertain space. Those are the moments with someone who has found the joy of putting aside the protective armor so commonly worn. Our culture is such an effective training ground for learning to put on the armor of protection, possessing and clinging.
The irony of the culture is the training of protection actually makes deep intimacy more difficult and less likely. It protects me from what I most ardently want. I am forced to rely on chance encounters when I enter the Gap and cannot depend on the routine presence of fellow travelers willing to enter the same loose, unfettered, immense space of engagement.
As much as I want to live in the Gap of emptiness, I am still unsure. I hold back. And so do others.