The Art of Taking Up Space

There is something along my journey that I am constantly mastering.

This is the art of taking up space.

Eight months ago on my second coaching call with a new coach he asked me to dance on our

Skype call.

He didn’t give me any instructions—he just asked me to dance.

I stood with my feet planted and didn’t budget them a heartbeat as I slowly moved my body.

When I finished dancing he looked at me and said, “Janne, you had the whole room. Why did

you only stay in that one place?”

I looked around my small studio in Victoria, dumbfounded.

I hadn’t even thought of dancing in my kitchen or in my bathroom, or on my bed.

How we do one thing is how we do all things and I can say with confidence that I wasn’t taking

up space in all the other areas of my life—my business, my relationships, conversations.

I was using my voice—but I wasn’t always using my voice to the fullness and capacity I could

with my writing.

When people ask me what “taking up space” means I ask them if they have ever gone to

parallel park at rush hour on a Friday, with a back up of 20 other tired and crazed humans

behind them.

Feeling the impatient energy buzzing thirty cars deep, you see an open parking spot.

What do you do?

Do you get stressed, pass it up and drive around the block for 15 minutes looking for another

space because you didn’t wait to make everybody behind you wait in case you fucked up and

had to back in three times while people rolled their eyes and blamed your race or your gender

for your parking abilities?

Or do you stop, and take your time to park in that space, with everyone behind you waiting

patiently or impatiently and zooming around you when you need to readjust a few times to get

it right.

That is taking up space.

Being confident that we are worthy to take the time of those around us to adjust our cars and

claim the space right in front of our meeting, so we won’t be late.

I at this point in my journey was the girl who went “fuck that” with the pressure and people

pleased by giving up the spot, and driving around the neighbourhood looking for a space, likely

being late for my meeting—and disserving both myself and those meeting me.

I have been practicing with great uncomfortability and sometimes reasonable grace, the act of

taking up space.

I practice by doing things such as dinging the airport call button, when my laptop dies.

Collecting what I fear is a “you’re so high maintenance” look from the stewardess as I ask for a

cup of water, or a tablet charger when my movie dies.

Janne 8 months ago would have waited with a dead tablet, or thirsty for 20 minutes till

somebody happened to walk by—so I wouldn’t inconvenience them.

Or gotten up and went to seek the flight attendant to be polite.

Taking up space for me means complaining when I really really don’t like a meal, or perhaps a

server gets my order wrong.

Instead of saying, “Oh, I’ll eat it. They look tired and I don’t want to be rude” it means saying, “I

didn’t order this. I was really looking forward to the chicken parm. Can I have that, please? I’ll

happily wait.”

Taking up space looks like being worthy in my business to set loving boundaries that respect

me—like 48-hour cancellation policies.

And when every bone in my body wants to refund someone when they don’t show up for a

call—not refunding them.

Taking up space is walking into a room with my head held high and making eye contact with the

humans around me—being connected to the space I am in, as well as my birthright of

worthiness to be there.

Taking up space is being worthy enough to claim space.

I had the ultimate test a few days ago on an airplane to Austin Texas.

I spent the flight taking to a selfless, tired man with chronic bags under his eyes from his chosen

martyrdom in both his business and personal life.

He had a heart the size of a kingdom and was not claiming space by setting loving boundaries in

his life.

As we got off the plane he said, “I’ll let you go first, and wait for the rest of the plane– my bag is

up top a few compartments down.”

I looked back at an airplane full of people and went, “Fuck that” in my head.

“Excuse me” I said to the man a few people behind us.

“Can you reach that compartment?”

He reached and said, “no” and went back to waiting, staring forward thinking “not my

problem”.

“It’s okay” my airplane friend said—grateful that I had tried.

But it wasn’t, and it isn’t okay.

“Excuse me” I hollered even deeper down the airplane.

A man stared blankly and irritatedly back to me.

“Yes?”

“Can you open that compartment?”

With an eye roll and a sigh he reached back and grabbed the black suitcase and the humans in

front of him passed the suitcase to the tired, sleepless and incredible human I sat beside for an

hour and twenty minutes.

“Thank you,” my airplane companion said and we walked off the plane together to our days

and our lives and our lovers.

This was the deepest way in which I have claimed space so far on my journey.

This was me not dancing in the same spot, but looking at the whole plane and moving around it

with my energy.

It was being worthy enough to halt the progress of the world to support a stranger, who truly,

madly, deeply deserved the experience of taking up space, too.

 

~ Janne Robinson

Photography by Morgan Stone Grether