It’s easy to treat the gap like a to-do list item.

A problem to solve.

An inefficiency to address.

I thought my job was to close it.

Fast. Clean. Correctly.

The faster I tried to close it,

the less I understood it.

The more I missed.

I noticed I was skipping something.

Something valuable.

Something alive.

I paused for a moment.

Stayed in the discomfort.

Named what was here.

Noticed what I preferred.

Let the difference between those two things

be the work.

That’s when it became evident. 

The gap isn’t something to fix.

It’s something to mine.

Not for certainty.

For clarity on how I could contribute.

Now, when I notice the gap,

I don’t close the gap.

I make it mine.

I remind myself:

This space is an invitation.

Asking for the gift of my participation.

Mine the Gap 

We all know the feeling.

We spot something missing.

Move fast to fix it.

What if the fix isn’t the work?

What if it’s the space between

what is and what could be.

That space has a name.

It’s called the gap.

It’s the ground.

Where development happens.

Where truth lives.

Where discomfort shows up.

It asks us to stay a little longer.

Not to fill it.

But to mine it.

Mine the pattern.

Mine the perception.

Mine the pace.

The instinct is to close it.

To optimize it.

To fix it.

Don’t.

Let the gap speak first.

Then listen.

Then participate.

Where are you rushing to fix

instead of staying to see?