Sometimes I get swept horizontal by the meaningless of space, space as in “a” space. This coffee shop. And though I feel uncomfortable talking from myself, owning a perspective, I’ve come to understand, or believe rather, that meaning is in the concentration. Meaning is in individual and collective purpose. This space, this coffee shop, is a make up of intentions. The music was chosen, the barristas are here to earn money, the coffee drinkers are getting a fix, having a meeting, waiting for someone. Sometimes I feel purposeless, I come unstuck in time and try and become part of the space rather than owning intention. But the space itself is meaningless. It’s like I’ve thought of spaces themselves as holding a kind of shamanistic ambiance and if I’m quiet enough, it will tell me what to do. But I can never be quiet enough. I am always blocked out by my own straining silence. How do you listen for quiet truths whilst not forgetting your own powerful self?