Writing
The Third Space
Having a third space is having a place outside of your home or workplace to convene or to relax. It might be purposeful, like a pub or a café. Or it could be something less obvious, like a park or a beach.
Having a third space is having a place outside of your home, or workplace, to convene or relax. It might be purposeful, like a pub or a café. Or it could be something less obvious, like a park or a beach.
During my time in the Philippines, I’ve found it more difficult to write. That may well be natural - a trough, a kind of writer’s block. Then I was ill, which disrupted the best part of a week…Not exactly a fertile environment for creativity.
But even accounting for that, I think the biggest reason comes back to the idea of a third space.
CYC Beach, Palawan. A would-be third space?
Of course, the Philippines has many of the things I’ve mentioned before. But none of them have yet felt like mine in the same way they have elsewhere. The beaches, particularly around the more popular parts of Palawan, often feel utilitarian. Places designed to serve movement. Boats coming and going, ferrying people out to the natural beauty that sits just beyond, out at sea.
They are gateways, rather than places to settle.
A cafe in Coron Town - a perfect spot
This isn’t a woe-is-me reflection from a privileged position. It’s simply an observation. Our environments shape us more than we tend to acknowledge. What appears exotic and beautiful on the surface doesn’t always translate into creativity or clarity, if the conditions to properly be present, to reflect, aren’t quite there.
The third space is that condition.
It’s a kind of safe haven. A regular café at home, or a one-off walk through a park while travelling, they serve the same purpose. A temporary removal from the noise of everyday life, whatever that life happens to be.
A freeing of burden. An unravelling of thought. And, perhaps most importantly, a chance to be at ease with yourself.
The Bay of Bacuit
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Seen From Elsewhere
On a flight from Kuala Lumpur to Cebu, I look down and spot a cluster of small tropical islands off the coast of Borneo. All green jungle, ringed by white sand and clear turquoise water.
On a flight from Kuala Lumpur to Cebu, I look down and spot a cluster of small tropical islands off the coast of Borneo. All green jungle, ringed by white sand and clear turquoise water.
I wonder who is there, what it might be like. Within seconds I feel a pull towards them, stronger than anywhere else, despite having been unaware of them less than a minute before.
Tropical beach - Palawan, The Philippines.
The following day I’m lying still on my back in the sea. Clear water, white sand behind me, thick jungle beyond. A group of swifts circle overhead. Then a plane cuts across the sky, and I’m taken back to 24 hours earlier.
Here I am now, in a place not so different from the one I’d looked down on with envy, but on the other side of it. I start to wonder who is on that plane, where it’s going, what they’re seeing below. Whether someone up there has just added somewhere new to their list.
The view hasn’t changed. Only the position.
An aircraft above - a shift of perspective
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Cold, smooth, creamy liquid pours down my throat rapidly before coming to an abrupt ending with a bitter finish on my tongue. It’s my first pint of Guinness in over four months. I’ve been away travelling, and one of my first ports of call upon returning is the pub.