Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is the power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.  Viktor Frankl, Holocaust Survivor

I’ve been keeping this blog for exactly one year. It has been a place for me to explore and write about the lessons I’m learning as I make my way through midlife. Indeed, settling into the “space between” –in my yoga practice, in my marriage, as a mother, as a friend and as a woman–has been the great challenge of the past year. I’m not done, but I’ve made some significant strides. Not because I’ve found the space between–that would be too simplistic–but because I have a clearer definition of what it feels like when I’m there.

So to commemorate the one-year anniversary of this blog, I want to write about what the “space between” has come to mean for me.

First, my initial theory has proven true: the space between any two things occurs on a razor’s edge. In yoga, instructors talk about the space between ease and effort, calm and struggle. On the surface, it would seem easy to find such a space: the space of neutrality. But, like life in general, when you’re on your yoga mat sweating and with legs trembling to hold a pose for another three breaths, finding that space between ease and effort is elusive. After all, if I’m not trying, I’m at ease. If I’m struggling too hard, I’ve swung to the other side. What does this “space” look like in practice? In real-life situations–on or off the yoga mat?

This, perhaps, has been–and remains–the greatest lesson, and the greatest challenge for me. When does comfort become complacency? When does motivation become urgency? When did the scales tip from being too much of one thing to not enough?

I’ve come to realize that when I’m vacillating between one side and another, struggling to find the middle ground, it is often because I’m invested in an outcome. And this investment brings about urgency, pressure. I start to define the journey by its result. Was it a success or a failure? Did I or didn’t I hold the pose for three more breaths? Did I land a new client or did the work go to someone else? Am I good wife and mother, or a bad one? I know I’m not in the space between when I’m asking these kinds of questions.

Instead, when I’m in the space between, my internal dialogue might look something more like this: How do I feel right now? If I were to back off a little bit, what would that look like? Forget three breaths. Can I hold this for one more breath? What outcome am I afraid of? What is holding me back or urging me forward? What kind of process do I want to use to get from Points A to B? Is there more than one way to define “success” in this situation? (Hint: There always is.)

Language is powerful. When I’m thinking in terms of “success” and “achievement” and “desired outcomes” I’m not in the space between. I’m there when I’m focused on the messages I’m getting–from myself, from others, from the circumstances–and I’m responding based on a more complex set of variables. In other words, I’m in the space between when I’m focused on the process, not the destination; when my definition of success is not defined by how things turned out, but by how I got there. Not only does this make it more fun, but it dials down the pressure. Way down.

Here’s a real life example: I was nominated for participation in a leadership program. I know and respect many people who have completed this program. To apply, you must submit an application, with essay questions, and participate in an interview process. I’d like to be admitted to the group.

A year or two ago, I would have been a nervous wreck about the application and interview process. Not stressed about completing the program, stressed about getting in. My internal dialogue would have gone something like this: “If I’m not admitted to the program, it must mean I didn’t meet the core competency criteria. In other words, I’m not smart enough.” Or, “If I don’t get in, other people will know I applied and know I got rejected and then they’ll know that I didn’t measure up and I’ll be embarrassed.” This thinking is not the space between.

How about this: I’d like to get into the program and I’ll be disappointed if I don’t. But it isn’t a make-or-break life event either way. I believe that I have something to contribute to the group, and something to learn from a program like this. I’m flattered that the person who nominated me thought to do so. But if it doesn’t happen this year, I can reapply. Or I can develop leadership skills in a different way. I can contribute to the community in ways that don’t involve this specific program. In other words, a successful outcome is not being accepted into this program per se, it’s finding an outlet to learn and contribute in the area of leadership. And there are many paths to that outcome. Admittance to this program is just one path.

No pressure, no big indictment or stamp of approval on me as a person or as a leader one way or the other. I’m going to do my best, but I’m not wedded to a particular outcome. My self-esteem is not going to rise or fall on the admission committee’s decision.

This marks a significant shift in thinking. And it changes everything–what I want to do, why I want to do it, and who I want to do it with. The victory no longer lies in the end result (getting into a leadership program, getting promoted, landing that new client), but rather in what I got out of the experience, how I approached it, and what I plan to do with the newfound knowledge.

And that’s the space between. And for this woman, that’s a welcome shift in perspective.