1000:1 Calming Space

Every time I have a transition in life it takes time to adjust. While that wasn’t a prolific statement, it’s what I keep telling myself as I situate in Chicago. Don’t read into it too much. Things are great. I know where the grocery stores are; I walk more than I did at TCU and spend a lot less on gas; I’m even batting over .500 on churches that I’ve visited and liked. At the same time, every transition also requires a lot of space to adjust.

Beyond the cargo of clothes, books, computers, kitchen supplies and beverages, it takes a lot of space-discovery to create comfort in new homes. I didn’t think anything of it when I was unpacking. My bed, refrigerator and a bookcase fill up one wall while the opposite has the rest of the books and computers and the window has a desk underneath it. Pretty simple, right? Well, one of my friends from TCU who also is up here, Vy, showed me what a complex thing space could be.

Vy is the head resident this year at the Disciples Divinity House and he has one of the biggest rooms on the third floor. I thought my room was huge (bigger than home and my old one at TCU), but his is almost one and a half times the size of mine. He spent an entire afternoon after we moved his stuff up there to figure out how he was going to arrange it. With that much space to use, and that much experience from previous years, Vy stressed the need for a well-planned, compartmentalized layout. He settled on three areas: living space, fun space and work space. Living space was the obvious one with his bed, dresser and lamp. Work space was also pretty self-explanatory with the desk, file cabinet and several bookshelves. Then came the fun space. Leave it to a UChicago student to have his (yes, a large percentage are male) fun space include his many shelves of former school books. No, in reality, Vy’s books are the dividing walls between all of the spaces in the room. They’re pretty effective for that; how fitting.

Vy’s whole process made me reexamine my space in my room. Like in most areas of life, compartmentalizing has its obvious benefits and downsides. It’s dangerous because the false distinctions can blur reality and cause certain things to be overemphasized. However, it’s also beneficial when it organizes workflows and provides a healthy sense of balance. So how is my room to function like Vy’s by having different uses for different sections? I still haven’t found that answer, but what I did find shocked me.

Looking back on my past two years, I can pinpoint different stages and different lifestyles. Studying at TCU, my room was arranged similar to my current configuration; I had the open area (the “white space”) be in the middle with all of the room’s contents pressed to the walls. My living space was the same as my work space which was the same as my fun space. There wasn’t a large difference among any of the areas; there still isn’t.

The distinctions CAN be drawn from a different labeling system; it became all-too-apparent when I looked at my travels through the past year. In Florence I had all of my belongings in my backpack and a carry-on. Even with little constant space, I still had distinctive places where my lifestyle maintained (or tried to maintain) its balance. The system that works for me contains my intensive space, walking space, and calming space.

My room is my intensive space. It’s the place where I do computer programming. It’s the place I usually study. It’s the place I toss and turn in my bed. It’s my first place to go if I need to “do” something. My walking space is part of where I do my best thinking. This obviously differs on where in the world I’m at, but each location has a different walking place. In Seattle it was to and from work; Doug and I didn’t talk much during the walks (probably since we both just enjoyed the time to walk and think). Ft. Worth’s walking place was on the Stairmaster in the recreation center. In Boston, I intentionally walked to the grocery store frequently; it was therapeutic. In Florence it was my trips to class. Often verging on work-out length, those walks were my time to do some last-minute studying, people watching, and atmosphere absorbing.

The place in each location that remains the most difficult to pinpoint is the calming space. This space is one where I seek solace; sometimes seek it incredibly often, and sometimes incredibly sparingly. In Ft. Worth it was obviously South Hills Christian Church for me. Choir practices, sunday school and youth group were all times to take a break from the pressures of school. In Florence it was more difficult to find that calming space. While there were amazing churches and art galleries around, the most calming for me was one of the simplest. The Chiesa di San Miniato al Monte is a Basilica that is run by the Benedictine monks living next door. What was the most calming aspect of this “mega-church” was its crypt. At the end of the central nave, and down below the altar, was a burial room with a chapel at the front. It was a simple place; the benches were a sturdy and well-worn wood, the devotion centers in the corners were un-intimidating, the lighting was perfect. The picture above doesn’t do the lighting and ambience justice, but the simple image reminds me that my few times (a total of four, I think) I went to San Miniato made it my calming space.

My Chicago calming space is still undiscovered. I know it exists … somewhere. I’m not in a panicked rush yet, either; I will find it when I need it.