Interstitial spaces are spaces that, still untouched and undefined, grant access to those who enter. They are spaces that serve to prevent one from barging right into the house—forcing one to pause. A vestibule could be such an intermediate space, or perhaps a hallway that isn’t designated as a separate room but is, in fact, one from which various paths can be taken—through another door into the bedroom or even into the parlor.
In architecture, we also find interstitial spaces when it comes to insulation—when an air gap separates the interior from the exterior in such a way that the indoor climate is improved and noise can be dampened. Upon closer reflection, these physical interstitial spaces do not necessarily seem indispensable, yet they are necessary.
And what about us? We, as human beings, are, in a sense, already in an in-between state—a state of flux between heaven and earth. Within ourselves, we find ourselves in spiritual interstices during moments of transition. When we sense that something new is on the horizon, about to break through, and we feel a little off-balance—much like when stirring a mixture, when the current flow is slowed by reversing the stirring direction and must first pass through a state of chaotic mixing before it forms a new vortex. Until—at some point—the opposite direction becomes visible.
What happens, when applied to human beings, when such an impulse for change courses through them and decisions are made? What kind of force is this, anyway, that works its way through a person like Michael’s sword?
“We can’t go any further in this direction!” The voice within us calling for this change of direction is usually strong and clear. Action follows—a step is taken—and it takes time for our physical being to adjust; a period of adjustment, perhaps even one marked by turmoil and doubt. A time for processing. A psychological in-between space, so to speak, that is not yet fully experienced as a realignment.
Here’s what we can say: Entering these spaces andis an art that requires maintaining inner calm as much as possible within this dynamic—perhaps this space is dim and uncomfortable—and yet allowing oneself to be guided, without haste, to those new shores that lie in the distance with certainty but are not yet visible.
To remain awake and take bold risks. By listening with trust and surrendering to this inner voice, we can see just how wise it is. And as human beings, we can only gain from this.
