What is this space?

What is this space?


“The reason I write is to explain my life to myself ... I’ve also discovered that when I do, I’m explaining other people’s lives to them.” — Pat Conroy


Friends, Welcome to Pensive Impulse, a space.

A space of witness, as one human being doing the human condition thing.

A space to wonder and wander. To be “Curiouser and Curiouser!

A space that acknowledges life, that even while so wholly magnificent at times and utterly devastating at others, it is full of the inbetweens of grey things and grey questions and grey answers and grey feelings and grey outcomes. We humans are a messy lot, it isn’t the black and white so many crave.

A space of permission to revel and rail through all oscillations of wave and sound. To posit and grapple and play, especially inside all the grey.

A space that honors my constellational principle that our passions inform our purpose. I talk about this a lot. Those zings that quicken pulse, the stirrings of our souls, our lifeblood and breath. Listen to them, nurture them, do them. Our droplets collectively fill oceans, ripple on for always.

A space of made up words, like constellational.

A space sometimes of pain, the chronic variety.

A space of connection. “Human as to human.” Weaving story and support into the ever expanding tapestry of humanity. To me, it’s the entire point of our transient soul-stop.

A space online. Some folks selfie and daily-status update and that’s cool. I don’t so much but I write. Pat Conroy struck my soul-cord when he shone this light, “The reason I write is to explain my life to myself ... I’ve also discovered that when I do, I’m explaining other people’s lives to them.” Sometimes posts are short, sometimes they’re not. If a now shuttered three-second Vine was too long for you, I’d look for another space.

A space where I’m guaranteed to be late to the party for whatever show, podcast, book, or twitter hashtag that is trending. Points though, yeah?, I was in it till the bloody end of GOT.

A space of flight. I had gone about it all wrong and had to climb down the ‘caterpillar pillar.’ “There’s nothing at the top and it doesn’t matter.” Stripe and Yellow taught me that we are meant to fly. I believe them.

A space of slow burn contemplation. I spend weeks, months, thinking about one book, one line from that one book, one word from that one line from that one book. I metabolize as if seemingly idle in a heartland grass after a lazy meal, the late afternoon summer sun readying the fireflies. Topics showing up might be dog years old from when they first broke in our nanosecond news cycle. Hence the impulse of pensive.

A space to stretch my eyes from breathing moments, unplayed, pianissimo, for the masses, from arranging tempo of the songs yet unsung, the poems unmetered.

Holocaust survivor Viktor E. Frankl imparted to us, "Between stimulus and response there is space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom." His words guide my life, give it meaning — probing space and all the ways it manifests. This is just one space.

Welcome again.


Hi there, I’m Heather. To learn more things, click here.


What pain has taught me.

More Things. Welcome.

More Things. Welcome.