Margin, the white space
around the text in a book,
is the forgotten bit.
We see it, but we don’t.
The people who don’t make the actual text of the history books or are the poorest of the poor are called “the marginalized.” They’re the ones that history forgets.
And yet, the margin frames the text.
The margin is the structure for the activity. Maybe it’s deserves more credit.
Margin or the Negative Space
I used to work with a team of graphic designers, and I learned from them that it’s important to pay attention to that white space…the negative space is what they called it. That empty space is a part of the big picture.
The empty space creates a frame
for the busy of our lives
and the patterns of our relationships.
Without the white space,
it all crowds together
and we can’t tell the busy from the pattern.
When a design is too crowded, the eye is overwhelmed and doesn’t know where to focus. The negative space guides the viewer to the important part of the image he or she is viewing. Design and empty space work best when they balance each other.
Living in the Margin
I once asked a very busy professor if he could meet with me every other week to work on a project. He agreed. After a few weeks of this and learning how many responsibilities he had, I asked, “How do you have time to meet with me! Why do you meet with me?”
(You see, in my head, I wasn’t the smartest, brightest, or most important student that he could have been spending his time with. I was just another face.)
His answer still echoes in my thoughts.
“My wife and I are very intentional about living our lives with margin.”
Use the Margin
History is built on the margin, structured by it, and framed by that white space.
We might not be able to read all the stories of the lives in those margins, but I have no doubt that this white space supported the events we know about from the text.
I even wonder how many of those history-worthy people did what they did because they listened to the call of the margin, whether that meant quiet space in their lives or hearing the stories of the marginalized.
If you’re like me, you’ve lived a life that’s so speedy that if there were a life-police…well, you’d already have been pulled over at least once. Maybe twice.
Between searching for sustainability and the search for identity, there’s no time.
So it’s got me thinking. How can I build margin into my life? Does that mean a night during the week that is mine and no one else’s? Or maybe two? What about you? Do you need margin like I need margin? What’s it look like?
Should life be a constant state of blur?
I’d really love to have some margin along the pages of my rambling story, where I can doodle or take notes or leave tear drops.
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