The Third Place
I was out to lunch a few Saturdays ago when a friend asked me a simple question that stuck with me long after the meal ended.
She asked, “do you have a third space?”
I paused.
“It’s that place that is not home nor work. It’s somewhere in between.”
I told her, “I used to.”
I used to go to coffee shops on my own — no agenda, no meetings, no productivity attached to it. Just me, a cup of coffee, a book, and my journal. Time would stretch in that quiet, unstructured way. I wasn’t trying to be anything. I wasn’t needed by anyone. I could just be.
And as I was saying it out loud, I realized… I miss that.
Somewhere along the way, life became full — work, responsibilities, relationships, even the many tools and practices I’ve gathered over the years. But fullness can sometimes crowd out space. And without realizing it, I had let go of that in-between place that once held me so gently.
To me, the third space is one that asks nothing from you, no need to perform a role, just be present.
And I think that’s why it is important to me.
Because in a life where we are constantly responding — to messages, to expectations, to inner and outer noise — the third space becomes a quiet return. A place where your system can exhale.
When I think about my own journey — especially in this season of slowing down and becoming more aware — I realize that so much of what I’ve been learning points back to this:
We need spaces where we are not in reaction.
Where we are not optimizing.
Where we are not healing with an end goal in mind, but just allowing.
It’s funny, because I have so many tools now. Reiki. Heartmath. Meditation. Practices that support me, ground me, bring me back to myself.
But even with all of that, there is something uniquely nourishing about a physical space where nothing is expected of you.
A corner table.
A familiar café.
The quiet companionship of strangers around you.
A place where you can sit with your thoughts… or not think at all.
So now I find myself asking a different question:
Not “Do I have a third space?”
But “Am I willing to create one again?”
Even in small ways.
Maybe it’s going back to a coffee shop with my journal.
Maybe it’s sitting somewhere without reaching for my phone.
Maybe it’s carving out a pocket of time where I don’t try to make anything happen.
Just space.
Just presence.
Just me.
And something tells me… that’s enough.
And if my writing has resonated with you in any way, you can support my work by buying me a coffee.