Gestalt theory suggests we experience life in waves. Using a surfing metaphor: You have the surfer looking (sensing) for a wave. She then becomes aware of a wave. Her energy increases as she turns and paddles for the wave. She takes action, catching the wave. Now she's got full contact with the wave; she's in the zone riding the wave. She rides out the wave and falls to the water (completion). She pauses as the rush of the wave leaves her body (withdrawal). Looking back out to the ocean, she slides back on the board and paddles out to wait for the next wave.
Who doesn't love the feeling of riding the wave? When I surf I always ride to the very end until it peters out. Even though I know I should jump off earlier, right after it peaks, I can't make myself stop because it feels so good. It's now, immediate. I'm just there in that wave, not thinking about the long paddle back out I'm creating by riding so far inside. I'm resisting what's in between me and the next wave, what Gestalt theory calls the Fertile Void.
This space in between waves of experience is essential to restore your energy, take stock of what just happened. I get this but it just feels so boring and unproductive compared to riding the wave. I want to have the rush of doing things, not waiting for things to happen. But Gestalt theory has made me realize the dangers of skipping over the fertile void, which is called Wave Hopping. It makes for a futile void rather than fertile one.
This morning I'm reading about the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve in Northeast Oklahoma, the largest patch of an ecosystem that used to cover the entire middle section of the continent from top to bottom. I imagine the vast ocean of prairie and recall how many times I looked out at the Pacific Ocean and it felt familiar, like a landscape I knew but blue and watery. In my imagination I follow the prairie to the upwell of earth that is the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Ah, I can see now -- I've been raised in the fertile void. If felt boring and uneventful at times, just like the time in between surf sets. But it's essential to me and to the ecosystem of this continent. You can't jump from wave to wave or mountain range to mountain range. You need the prairie, this fertile place to restore energy.
This morning I'm reading about the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve in Northeast Oklahoma, the largest patch of an ecosystem that used to cover the entire middle section of the continent from top to bottom. I imagine the vast ocean of prairie and recall how many times I looked out at the Pacific Ocean and it felt familiar, like a landscape I knew but blue and watery. In my imagination I follow the prairie to the upwell of earth that is the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Ah, I can see now -- I've been raised in the fertile void. If felt boring and uneventful at times, just like the time in between surf sets. But it's essential to me and to the ecosystem of this continent. You can't jump from wave to wave or mountain range to mountain range. You need the prairie, this fertile place to restore energy.