MA, The Empty Space Full of Life

Ma is a Japanese word which can be roughly translated as “gap”, “space”, “pause” or “the space between two structural parts.  Ma is not something that is created by compositional elements; it is the thing that takes place in the imagination of the human who experiences these elements.  Therefore Ma can be defined as experiential place understood with emphasis on interval. 

A while ago I read an article (or a poem?) about the value of the empty space – as in, for example, the space between the ceiling and the floor, what actually makes a room, or the space between the spokes of a wheel, without which there wouldn’t be one at all.  In my previous essay, without really thinking of Ma, I talked about yellow light – what comes between green and red on a traffic light – another of the many examples of empty spaces.

“There are two worlds at war within myself,” I told Cei and Dr. W., my two therapists.  “The old one, before being a mother, and the present one, with Catherine.”

I have been working with them since 2014, Dr. W. actually introduced me to Cei, her mentor.  Cei Davies Linn, together with David Grove, developed the innovative work of Clean Language* in the 1980s, and it is through this technique that I began to heal.  Cei lives in the United Kingdom, so every week we speak on Skype.

The week had been difficult: the exhaustion and lack of sleep didn’t help, and I had begun to understand how much the first months of life of a child could challenge even the strongest and most loving of marriages.  I was confused about my feelings, and the war inside my head did nothing but add more weight to every waking hour, to every activity missed, to every too quick a shower, or to any kiss not given, and every I love you not said back.  “Am I really cut out for this?” I had asked myself more and more often.  “I don’t like this life…”

“When did you accept that you were a mother?” I had asked a friend a few days before the therapy session during which we talked about Ma.

Cei asked me if I could identify something in my new life that was free from conflict; more in the specific, she wondered whether there could be something new, not belonging to the old, that had had a positive impact on me.  I told her that TM (Trascendental meditation) did create space, a new space.  Ben and I have recently gifted each other with TM for our wedding anniversary.

“What else?” she asked.  Every time I think there’s nothing more to add I discover something new, my perspective shifts, and change happens. Cei always asks “what else?” several times before moving on.

“Writing,” I said.  “Writing is different since I had her.”

“How is writing different?”

“It’s natural, more pleasant.  I never enjoyed it as much as I do these days.”

“Any other difference to a natural, more pleasant writing?”

“That I don’t listen to the old mean voice telling me that my writing is not a real job, that I am not publishing a book, that I don’t have an agent, and that I am not making any money.”

So now I had found out that I was pushing away my old belligerent way of living, judgmental, and always in competition.  But as we approached the end of the session I had also been able to recognize that mean voice had always come from pain.

“Is there anything else about a voice that comes from pain?” she asked then.

“Its intent has always been genuine.  I would really like to find compassion for it, instead of pushing it away.”

Cei and Dr. W. asked me if I could just listen to the voice without acting on it, if I could stay in the empty space that existed between following it and pushing it away — the Ma.

But what was between the two?

“The thing is,” I continued, “that that voice has never been vindicated.” And nobody but me could do that.  I had gone from listening to it as an absolute truth to completely ignoring it.  I had, once again, missed the amber light between green and red.

Its vindication was in between.

A few days ago, on a hot morning, I walked to the grocery store with Catherine.

“Jasmine…” I thought as I breathed the warm air.  After the rain, spring seemed to have arrived in Los Angeles.

So I smelled it’s fragrance.

As I kept on walking, I also noticed that the neighborhood resembled the campground where I used to spend my summer vacation as a child, in Puglia, in southern Italy.  Here, on the south side of Ventura Blvd, in southern California, the houses reminded me of white bungalows where the lights came on at sunset, and families ate supper outside, surrounded by citronella-scented candles to keep mosquitos at bay.

As I kept on walking, I looked at Catherine’s perfect eyes, finally closed, her cheeks now relaxed, and her tiny right hand resting beneath her chin.  I also saw a bird bathing in a puddle of muddy water residual from the recent rain, pink flowers I tried to guess the name of, small sunflowers painting lawns with dots of yellow, and magnolias, with their creamy, glossy leaves.

As I kept on walking, I tasted the saltiness of a drop of sweat mixed with the Apricot La Croix I was drinking, not really sparkling any more, but very refreshing as the temperature rose.  “This is Ma” I thought.  In fact, I had been walking in that “empty” space between the grocery store and the house, the essence of the journey, the portion of street where the inspiration to write this came.

Almost five months, my friend had answered when I had asked her how long it had taken her to accept having become a mother.

Catherine is four months old. So I guess I am in the space between 4 and 5, between point A and point B, between now and then.  I am in that space of infinite possibilities, a space that does seem empty, but that contains all that actually is.

*Clean Language in a nutshell:

Davies and Grove describe a Clean Question as:

Clean Questions are a tool that therapists use to help clients explore the symbols and metaphors that make up their mental landscapes. Metaphors are much more than “interesting” ways of describing perceptions. They are the “stuff” out of which mental landscapes are formed.

The therapist simply works with what is. It is the client who must become aware of how his symbols interact to shape his world–both inside and out.

From Davies and Grove’s research

These basic rules come from Davies and Grove’s papers (courtesy of Cei):

1. The speed of delivery is slower than half normal pace, reduced by at least 1/3 of a normal speaking voice
2. Therapist uses a slightly deeper tonality than normal speaking
3. Therapist often uses a distinctive sing-song rhythm. Questions begin with the conjunction “And”, a Clean Language conduit. In fact, beginning a question with a conjunction provides a natural bridge between the question and where the client’s information is sourced. Moreover, the repetitive use of “And” has an additional hypnotic value.
4. There is an implied sense of curiosity and wonder in the therapist’s voice
5. If the information given by the client is dense, the therapist always asks a question to the last piece of information given.

Following the answer to the first question, “And what would you like to have happen”? The following one locates where the symptoms of the feeling reside. By doing so, it identifies the moment of creation of the symptom from the feeling.