White space

Earth, water, fire, wind, void

Last fortnight a dear reader Kate Bown asked about Things that are good, my monthly(ish) series for paid subscribers. Things that are good is a little bonus for paid subscribers where I share five ‘good things’ from around the place - essays, recipes, media, thoughts. If you would like to trial a two month subscription to Suburban Dreaming so you can enjoy a couple of editions of Things that are good, you can do so here. Now that I’ve worked out how to create this freebie link, I would be thrilled for a few people to test it out.

It was a Monday and I woke up anxious so I put one foot in front of the other and went for a walk. Seeing the sky turn from darkness to pink with my dog by my side: I felt truly lucky.

The day after my last newsletter I woke up and felt cold for the first time in months. I put on socks and a coat. Since then the weather has continued to be warm during the day, but some sense of autumn seems to have arrived. This fortnight we’ve been adjusting to a new school term. It has felt busy, but also very normal: going about domestic tasks, fitting in work and study, seeing family.

I’ve been reading a book I selected at random from the library last week: Kokoro: Japanese wisdom for a life well lived by Japanologist Beth Kempton.

‘Earth, water, fire, wind, void. The five elements that make up the universe, according to esoteric Japanese Buddhism.’ writes Kempton.

She reflects on the meaning of ‘void (kū)’ and a Japanese friend explains that it is like in a sumi-e painting:

‘We only use black ink, and if you add too much and fill the page, there can only be one story. The thing becomes fixed. But if you allow enough white space, there is room for the viewer’s own interpretation to flower in their imagination, and the painting can generate many stories. In esoteric Buddhism, the element of kū is essential. The existence of the potentiality allows a widening of perspective.’

Kempton thinks about this and the stage of her life she is in (her mid-forties, statistically at the half-way point in life):

‘Perhaps that was was what was missing from my life at the moment: I had been so busy building things, and doing things, and worrying about the things I could no longer do, that I had not left any white space for what might be, for all that was still unknown.’

This book is reminding me of the possibility of loosening up, of finding perhaps just a hint of movement in the periphery, of realising that maybe things don’t have to feel so bound, so tight. As we move into the quiet curves of Autumn and (hopefully) Winter I’m reminded to find contentment in ordinary moments: the sun through a window, the feeling of breeze on skin, a flower, the touch of another human, nourishing food, a child telling you about their day. The building and doing that Beth refers to can swallow us whole, like some sort of giant beast, and it’s so difficult not to get swept up in its wake.

Can you find the possibility of space in your day, your month, your mind?

An evening walk this fortnight - everything around me was gold.

Yesterday I went to the Melbourne Writers Festival with my good friend Christine McFetridge and got home late, hence the delay in getting this fortnight’s newsletter out. We saw 2024 Booker Prize winner Samantha Harvey and Hannah Kent speak. Both were such beautiful speakers and incredibly generous with their time and responses. Kate Mildenhall and Richard Fidler were fantastic interviewers and both managed to draw out beautiful discussions and intruiging topics (including psychics, ghosts, space, deep time, dreams, and more). I’ll definitely be seeking out these interviews when they are released in podcast format (I hope) and others from the festival.

Hannah Kent and Richard Fidler at the Melbourne Writers Festival.

Other things…

• In addition to Kokoro, I’ve finally started reading Stone Yard Devotional by Charlotte Wood.

• I loved this live chat about hope and the climate crisis between Sally Gillespie and Notes from Saving the World.

• I’d love some good fiction recommendations to read over winter. I’ve felt a little sensitive of late and my usual hardcore reading topics (along with Season 6 of Handmaids - perhaps this is what has tipped me over) have worn me a little thin. I’d love some quality fiction to curl up with by the fire. If you have any recommendations please share them below!

This coming fortnight I’m hoping for regular domestic routine, run of the mill Autumn days, family time, some knitting, reading, walking and, of course, some white space to marinate in (too much to ask?) I’d also like to find the motivation to knuckle down and finish a Librarianship assessment task that is hanging over my head.

And… it’s late… so that’s quite enough for now.

Until next time, travel light.