✨White space isn’t empty (018)

Recently, I facilitated a virtual vision board session for women navigating life/career transitions. We gathered early in the morning, each of us arriving with a cup of tea or coffee and the weight of unspoken questions:

What’s next for me?
Is it too late to start over?
How do I create space for a life that fits me better?

As the session unfolded, something quietly profound emerged, not just in the images passed to each board, but in what wasn’t there.

One board had a large, visible white space — intentionally left unfilled.

Someone asked, “Should I add more to cover the blank spot?”

I paused.

Then offered this:

“What if that’s not a blank? What if it’s an opening?”

The Myth of a ‘Complete’ Life

We’re taught to fill our days, our resumes, our homes, our plates — and yes, even our vision boards.

White space? It feels… uncomfortable. Like something is missing. Like we’re not doing enough.

But what if white space isn’t a void — it’s a form of trust?

• Trust that not everything must be controlled.

• Trust that possibility doesn’t always arrive fully formed.

• Trust that sometimes the greatest clarity comes from letting something breathe.

A crowded board can mean clarity, yes. But sometimes, are we afraid to pause?

Reclaiming Space is a Radical Act

White space isn’t about laziness. It’s about permission.

Permission to:

• Exhale.

• Be in-between.

• Hold out for what truly lights you up.

When you leave space, you’re not being vague — you’re being brave.

You’re saying:
✨ “I’m open to the unknown. I’m making room for what hasn’t yet arrived.” ✨

This Week’s Reflection Prompt

🖼 Look at your vision board (or mental vision) this week.
Find a space — literal or metaphorical — that feels blank, unclear, or incomplete.

Now, instead of asking:

Ask:

Don’t rush to fill the gap. Sit with it. Let it speak.

Maybe it’s a relationship waiting to deepen.
Maybe it’s rest disguised as procrastination.
Maybe it’s a dream that’s still naming itself.

You’re Not Behind. You’re in Motion.

You don’t need a 5-year plan to deserve stillness.
You don’t need to justify the pause.

White space is a gift to your future self — the version of you who will one day say:
“Thank you for not rushing through this part.”

Keep going. You’re doing this beautifully.

To your spark,
Mary