Small Bite 007: Creating Space Through Yutori
Park benches and solitude.
This piece was featured as a segment on The Sunday Scaries Podcast and has been reformatted into column form. You can listen to it here:
It wasn’t always the most comfortable seat — but most of the time, a seat was all I needed. It was a park bench dedicated to someone. For how often I sat there, I should remember their names like the back of my hand. Unfortunately, most times I sat there, I was trying to forget things. It sat about 10 feet from the edge of the water. Most mornings, the water was calm enough that any movement was worth turning your head. Outside the occasional goose honk, it was quiet enough that those movements didn’t even require a glance. A duck dipping its head under, a water moccasin assessing its prey, a kayaker dipping their paddle back into the water after having a moment. When you go for a walk without your phone these days, you begin to realize how slow time can actually feel. In those moments when I’d sit by the water, I didn’t find myself needing to check the time. If anything — once I found out what time it was — I’d be taken aback that it hadn’t been longer. Ten minutes feels longer when you’re alone with your thoughts. And that’s a good thing, I think.
In those moments when I can’t get outside and I’m sitting at my desk, my brain naturally wanders off. My online destination for that very wandering off is Tumblr — a site where I don’t see any friends, a place where I don’t know anyone’s personality, a space where there are only photos and videos presented largely without comment. And despite Tumblr’s knack for getting a bit too emotional at times, there are still moments that give me pause. Just recently, one of those moments showed itself in a hand-written note that was then photographed and put online — you know, the total opposite of why you’d write a note in the first place. But that’s just Tumblr logic — and that’s okay.
The note itself simply said, “Creative people need time to be alone.” If I didn’t consider myself to be somewhat of a creative person, I likely wouldn’t have the artistic outlet of a podcast. And given my wife’s occupation keeps her at a hospital most of the day, we realized early in our relationship that our brains were wired somewhat differently. Mine more creative, hers more analytical. A good balance if I do say so myself.
But in sorting each other out, it took years for her to realize the truth behind the idea that creatives often need time and space for various reasons. In sorting this out, I began to wonder why I craved my alone time as much as I did. Was it because I lived a majority of my 20s in a small town where I didn’t do much through the long winters? Is it because I read a book a few years ago about the importance of lowering your screen time? Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I was largely single for the time leading up to when I met my now-wife. In reality, it was probably a combination of those. Reading one day, however, I stumbled across the Japanese concept of Yutori. While this term has roots in education, it can also be applied to work-life balance which will be where I’m focusing today. In essence, "yutori" suggests creating space in one's schedule and mindset for leisure, relaxation, and personal fulfillment. It means to live with spaciousness. It's about finding a balance between work responsibilities and personal well-being, avoiding excessive stress, and allowing time for hobbies, family, and other non-work activities. Sounds impossible, right? Well, not if you really dig in and attempt to prioritize it — something I wish I did more of on a larger scale.
Yutori can manifest itself in your life in several different ways. It’s rooted in a deep understanding of establishing boundaries and abiding by them — giving yourself limits which will thereby reduce your stress and improve your mental health. Of course, this concept doesn’t feel as novel as when you simply use the Americanized phrase — work/life balance. But we’ve all become so desensitized to that phrase that even when it’s used, we know we’ll never actually achieve the ratio that gives us that intrinsic happiness.
Doesn’t it kind of feel good to use a phrase that means “work-life balance,” but more? Something that doesn’t fall into the classic office jargon that we all brush off these days? Unfortunately for most — including myself — creating those boundaries is easier than simply being aware of them. Schedules fill up. Children get born. Wedding invites keep rolling in. The day after Christmas this year, we moved.
If you ever want to see what the opposite of Yutori feels like, try moving the week between Christmas and New Year’s with a two-year-old and a two-month-old. I found myself not only uprooting from my favorite place I’ve ever lived, but I also found myself moving away from the bench that was my respite when things became too overwhelming. A place where I’d practice being alone, a place where I’d tacitly meditate, a place where I was inadvertently practicing a form of Yutori without even realizing it.
And now, I’m in need of a new spot — a new bench, in whatever form that bench may present itself. I’ll let you know when I find it.