Space is Rocket Fuel for the Mind.

I need solitude to recharge. I am usually quite good at making time for it no matter how busy work and home life are.  
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But not in this season. I am currently two months post-partum with my 4th son. His three older brothers are all under 8. We have outgrown our small home and to say that finding space and finding quiet at home is hard is a huge understatement. My usual way to recharge away from home - spending the night in the Adirondacks about an hour away - felt out of reach. My 2-month-old was not ready to be left overnight yet; life is more hectic than ever. I just kept telling myself I could take time for myself this fall. Or maybe by winter. Someday I'll get some space. But not now.

Then, while reading a book (The Five Types of Wealth by Sahil Bloom), I came across this statement:
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“Our power is in our space.”

This caused me to pause. What he wrote next was even more noteworthy:

“Space is quiet - it is devoid of external inputs and does not require any outputs. It is stillness, solitude. You can create space literally by going to a physical location to be alone and disconnected or metaphorically by going to that location in your mind. The important part is that you go (and regularly). 

Space is not lazy - on the contrary, space is rocket fuel for the mind. 

Space is what enables you to think, reset, wrestle with the big, unanswerable questions, manage stressors, and recharge. It is what unlocks you and allows you to listen to your inner voice. It is where ideas connect and mingle in your mind. It is where you are able to think differently, approach problems in interesting new ways, connect spiritually with a higher power, or formulate insights that may change your life.”

I have known these words to be true for a long time. It is no coincidence that I have done my best writing/work when I give myself space away from everyday life.  But reading it again, at this moment, was a powerful push. I knew I needed to make some space for myself right now. 

So instead of pushing it off till I had the perfect day to go, I took what I could get. I realized my 2-month old is actually easy most of the time. Perhaps I could still find space and solitude, even with him along. I found a cheap midweek rate at an Adirondack lodge near Whiteface Mountain and planned a gentle hike for us. Like other retreats, I packed good food, wine, a pile of books and notebooks, comfortable clothes, and set off. 

The drive alone primed my brain for thinking. Happily, the baby slept and I let my mind wander as I drove slowly through the mountain roads. We stopped for a break at a favorite spot (Paul Smith’s VIC), eating lunch and enjoying a beautiful view, and then headed to the hike I planned. The path was not supposed to be very long, so it felt doable with a baby strapped on. 
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What I thought would be an easy stroll turned out to be...not so easy. I didn't even pack water, assuming I wouldn't be gone long. But the mild path I started on quickly turned rocky, gnarled, muddy. I found myself grateful for those little trail marker signs as I kept almost losing my way. I climbed higher and higher, sweating profusely with the baby on my chest, worry mounting. Each time I rounded a corner I assumed would be the end, I saw no end in sight. It felt SO much longer than the advertised length.

So optimistic at the start of the path.

The internet had promised a good view. While I really wanted to see it, I almost turned back many, many times. I knew I had to reserve enough energy to get back again (it was not a loop). The baby would need to eat soon. I didn’t have any water with me. There were so many reasons to turn back. 
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Somewhere near what I later discovered was the halfway point, I started telling myself “ Katie, you can do hard things.” (I alternated between that and “you should really turn back now”). That led to thoughts on something else that has been a hard thing lately. I started thinking about a project I've been working on for almost three years. Recently, I had come to a point where I felt like I needed to either find a new path forward or give up. I had been leaning towards give up. I have four young children. This project needed time and money and I am short on both. It would not pay my bills. It was not a part of my full time job. It had already kind of failed in a number of ways. 

In the quiet (and long) space of the hike, my brain wrestled with the idea of whether to continue this project. Those thoughts then started to overlap with the idea of finishing this hike. Suddenly, finishing the hike (with a baby) felt symbolic of finishing the project (during this season of little-kid parenting). I started to think that giving up on the hike would be more meaningful than just turning back early from a trek. I realized giving up on the hike might bug me for a long time ... as would giving up on the project. I want to be someone who does hard things. And while I understand the dangers of the sunk cost fallacy, sometimes we give up right before things get good.

So I pushed through. I got to the end of the hike. It got GOOD.

At the top of that summit was such a breathtaking view. It was the greatest reward for not giving up.
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Furthermore, I discovered that other hikers had left these at the top:

These stone piles are called Inukshuks. I first learned about them in Greenland. Coincidentally, the project I contemplated the whole way up partially includes moving forward with ideas born during a 2021 project that took me to the icy shores of Greenland. It was a career-changing (and life-changing) experience that made me realize  how interested I was in heritage. Since then, I have done work in heritage that I am proud of, but my efforts to expand work in Greenland keeps hitting walls. This project, if successful, would be the first tangible follow-up since that trip. And as I contemplated whether to dedicate time and money towards it during this complex time in my life, I reached a hard-won summit and found these stone statues. Inukshuks have helped people navigate for thousands of years in the Inuit world. In the mental and physical space of this hike, I found a sign telling me what to do next. 

I was so excited, first to have made it to the top, then to see the Inukshuks. I threw my hands up in the air (and startled the little passenger on my chest). I headed back down the mountain with a huge grin on my face. What felt like a far distance on the way up was covered quickly on the way down. I finished the trail covered in sweat. I was completely exhausted and entirely inspired. I used the quiet space of the return trip to craft a plan for how to push this passion project forward, despite the difficult season I am in, despite the excuses. Because I can do hard things. Even with a baby along for the ride, I can do hard things.
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Hard earned rest.

“Our power is in our space. Space is rocket fuel for the mind” 

The quiet path and the long hike gave me space at a time when I needed it most. And that space helped me listen to my inner voice, think through a decision, wrestle with an unanswered question. In that space I found the strength to really challenge myself. Space really was rocket fuel for my mind.

Many people don’t realize how much space is lacking in the way we live today. When was the last time you were free from all distractions, no inputs, not outputs, no noise, no voices other than your own? When was the last time you had true mental space? Or physical space, devoid of all the reminders of what you needed to do? 

Is there anything you are struggling with at the moment? Are you facing change but are unsure how to handle it? Are you a leader unsure how to lead, or a parent unsure how to parent in a particularly challenging season? Do you have an idea you’ve always dreamed of developing, or a project simmering on a back burner? Do you feel like something is missing in your life or your career?

If there is something tugging at you, begging for an answer, you may not need to hope you will stumble upon a giant, complex solution. You may not need to wait for the challenging season to pass. You may not need a lot of money or time. Something far easier may help. It’s something you can carve out right now, or plan for in the very near future. All you might need to help with whatever it is you are struggling with is a little space. 
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I don't know who needed to read this story right now. If it's you, take this as a sign. Find some space, and you might just find a whole lot more waiting for you there. 

“Our power is in our space. Space is rocket fuel for the mind” ​

Stuck on the side of the road. His good behavior wore off on the way home.