Spaces and Non-Spaces
Lately, I have been lingering on the thought of the spaces we inhabit, the quiet corners of our days, and the way certain spaces leave deep imprints on our hearts while others seem to dissolve as soon as we pass through them.
French anthropologist Marc Augé (1995) spoke of this distinction, describing “places” as spaces infused with memory, identity, and connection—a kitchen table worn smooth by family meals, a park alive with laughter, a café that feels like an extension of your own home. In contrast, he called some spaces “non-places”—the anonymous corridors of airports, the endless stretch of highways, the waiting rooms and hotel lobbies that ask nothing of us but our brief passage.
And yet, the line is never absolute. Even the most ordinary train station, where strangers hurry past with little thought, can be transformed into a place of meaning for the one who returns there day after day, meeting a friend or carrying a memory that lingers long after the crowd has gone.
I think of our inner world in much the same way. Within us are bright, familiar rooms filled with stories, emotions, and memories that shape who we are—our inner “places.” But there are also vast corridors we pass through without pause, unexamined corners of thought and feeling that slip by unnoticed—our inner “non-places.”
And I wonder: what might happen if we paused in those hidden inner spaces instead of rushing past them? Sometimes they may feel scary or dangerous, stirring what we’d rather avoid. Other times they may open onto something healing and soothing, offering a quiet resting place for the heart.
Perhaps, like the outer world, our inner landscape becomes a place of meaning not by its design, but by the attention and presence we bring to it.
TJL Art and Inspiration 