Gaps are everywhere. Some exist because of poor workmanship, a result of weathering and use or are designed as tolerances between materials. We have different ways of dealing with unwanted gaps. A gap between the leg of a table and an uneven floor is usually mitigated by a paper shim while a gap in a wooden window frame is lined with caulking and painted over to conceal it. One would commonly associate a gap with a space that is narrow or small but a room can be argued as a gap too, albeit one has been expanded to accommodate human activities. Unlike the unwanted small gap, we would not want to completely fill this up. We need this gap to exist so that we can live, even though we tend to pile it up with our stuff, memories, desires, fears and hopes. We feel safe too, in this big gap. It keeps us warm in winter and cool in summer. It keeps out the rain, the noise and strangers, although now virtual strangers can share the same gap with us remotely. Further expansion of this room-gap would result in a series of even larger gaps called a house, a neighborhood and a city. Within these larger gaps are smaller ones that co-exist with and sustain them. A storm drain is a linear gap along the street to channel rainwater away, which would otherwise flood the street if left alone. A gap between two tall buildings allow light to stream to the ground, which otherwise would leave the street gloomy. Narrow gaps called alleyways permit the placement of trashcans, to use as service lanes for delivery and for someone to run a business away from prying eyes.
These gaps keep humanity going.
Gaps are opportunities for new beginnings. Their imperfect alignments open up a space for actions and invitations for renewal. In the Chinese language, the word gap consists of the character 间, which also refers to time or interval. 间 itself consists of 2 ideograms- a sun within a door, which one can interpret as a door left slightly ajar (a gap) that permits a ray of light to stream into the interior. At times, these intervals can become opaque. They prevent us from remembering. They cloud our past. They make us lose our identity, our memory. They keep commonalities apart and differences irreconcilable. These impenetrable gaps come filled. We don’t need a shim or caulking. In fact, we need to do the opposite- to crave away in order to remember again, to see the light, to connect and to reach out.
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