Boundless and the Power of Space

This article was written by Kate Ward for Deanne Fitzpatrick's magazine, Create Beauty Everyday. You can check out the magazine for free here!

What does it mean to be boundless? According to dictionary.com it means having no bounds; infinite or vast; unlimited.

How does being boundless apply to craft and/or life? 

I had been pondering these questions after Deanne had reached out and asked me to write an article for her magazine. One of the words that I associate with boundless is spaciousness. Having space in one’s life, whether it be physical as in not surrounded by clutter, or spaciousness in mind (again no mental clutter), or space in the day (ie no commitments) contributes to the feeling of freedom - of having no bounds. This led me to thinking how important it is to have space in art - the negative space which is so important to allow the focus of the image to stand out, or space in music to allow the music to hover in the air between notes. Space is part of my Zen practice and something I aspire to in my daily activities (although Im not always successful at this). Space from being busy - and the opportunity to enjoy simply being rather than filling each moment of our life with productive action. 

Space resonates with me because I am hard wired as a ‘doer’. I enjoy getting things done, and I try to squeeze as much as I can into my days. Even when sitting in front of the TV I like to have a project in my hands (usually knitting so that I can watch the program).  I like to be productive.

And so on a recent visit to Australia, I was catching the early morning train through rural New South Wales and I thought it would make the perfect opportunity to catch up on my emails. So I packed my computer and notebook to join me on the journey. But it seemed that the universe had other plans for me that day. 

I walked the short distance from my house to the train station. It was a brisk winter morning, still below 0 C celsius and the sun hadn't quite risen. There was a sprinkling of frost on the autumn leaves that remained scattered on the ground next to the sidewalk. I stopped for a moment admiring the delicate silver lines of frozen water that outlined each leaf, before continuing on my way. I had made space in my plans to allow for moments like these, but I also hurried along because I didn't want to miss the train.

Waiting at the train station I had time to admire my surroundings. Many of the regional train stations are beautiful old stone buildings built over 150 years old and reminiscent of Australia’s colonial history. As I stood on the platform, my eyes softened as I looked into the distance noticing the trees were shrouded in fog. Everyone was bundled up in warm clothing as we waited for the train. 

It arrived on time, and we all boarded. I found my seat, and settled in for the journey. As the train pulled away from the station I unpacked my laptop and note book, ready to work uninterrupted for the duration of the trip. But as I tried to connect to the internet, I realised that we were in a low coverage area. I gave it a minute and tried again, but still no luck. ‘Ok’, I thought, ‘I’ll wait till we get around this bend and I’ll try again’. 

So I settled back in my seat and looked out the window as the world slid by taking a moment to admire the splendor of the Australian bush. Having been away for quite some time it was refreshing to view it with ‘new eyes’ and to admire its beauty rather than seeing it as the ordinary and the every day.

Although it was daylight, the sun had not yet risen over the mountain range and frost had coated everything with a fine layer of white. In the distance I could see low lying fog and then the glow of the sun still obscured by the mountain range, sending beautiful hues of orange and yellow into a crisp blue sky dotted with the occasional small white fluffy cloud. It was beautiful and still. A feeling of serenity washed over me as I watched the earth wake up.

As the sun rose into the sky, the train rattled its way along the tracks, illuminating the frozen vegetation, light sparkling off each leaf like a bejeweled ornament. Foxes with thick tails ran at the sound of the train, and herds of kangaroos bounced off into the distance, their tails beating a visual rhythm as they too wanted to escape the cacophony of the train.  

Then we would turn the corner and descend into a valley that was still shrouded in fog, magnificent gum trees wrapped in layers of silky shrouds of mist that obscured their details. Sometimes it was so thick it was hard to see anything more than a few meters away.   

And it was in this moment of delighting in the landscape that I realised that I had created space for stillness by watching that cold morning slip by. By detaching myself from the ‘to do’ list that I had in my mind, and by letting go of trying to control every moment, it had presented the opportunity to do nothing. 

And in this opportunity to do nothing I discovered something.

This space had allowed me to rediscover the delights and the beauty of the Australian bush. To admire the soft subtle colours of a landscape before dawn, where the light is delicately soft before it turns into the harsh Australian landscape saturated with colour. 

And it presented time for reflection.

In doing so, it allowed for space for creative thoughts to come in. I found myself wanting to explore the soft colours and shapes of the landscape in watercolours in my journal. An activity I haven’t felt inclined to do for quite some time, simply because I have been too busy focusing on other things. 

And it was at that moment I reflected just how beneficial space is. And how by giving ourselves space, we give ourselves the gift of time, and the opportunity for reflection and creativity. It is so important to tune out in a world where we seem to fill every spare minute with gazing at our phones, listening to a podcast or just being visually bombarded with advertisements wherever we look. 

By intentionally carving out quiet moments, we open ourselves to inspiration that might otherwise be drowned out by the constant noise of daily life. Space invites stillness, and in that stillness we rediscover parts of ourselves that have been waiting patiently - our curiosity, our creativity, and our capacity to simply be. When we step away from the noise, even briefly, we make room for the kind of boundless imagination and reflection that brings us back to what truly matters. 

It's a gentle reminder that doing less can often lead to feeling more. 

And this spaciousness has led me to embark on a new exploration on how to portray fog using watercolour and textile techniques. I dont know which direction these new explorations will take me - but sometimes it is delightful to simply play.