Istanbul: a little girl connects with her grandmother. Photo by Collin Key.
Babies and toddlers cling tenaciously to their teddies, bunnies, security
blankets and loveys of every description. Imbued with the attributes of Mother, these transitional objects, as we have learned to call them (thanks to child psychiatrist Donald Winnicott) are powerful talismans against anxiety, especially when it is time to go to sleep.
I love the work of Winnicott and find it both intuitively “right” and also profoundly intellectual. Most dear to me is his concept of transitional space. I explain it like this — You know how it is, when you meet someone — and you just click, within moments feeling deeply connected? You can be at a noisy party, and yet, you and that special person seem to exist in your own bubble of intimacy. You can hear the music and see the other partygoers, but still you feel enclosed. That is transitional space.
Winnicott posits that there is a private space (the psychic space within), and a public space, which is clearly outside us. And then, between us, is the place where we connect: the transitional space which is neither purely inside nor purely outside, but rather an enlivened between space. And according to Winnicott, this transitional space is the space of play and creativity — where love can grow, where teaching and learning take place, where art is made, and where culture is created.
I have been aware on occasion of a friend or lover holding a space open for me … almost as one might hold up a tent or a canopy. It’s like a balm. You feel the welcome and readiness to connect when the transitional space is held open for you. And feel the sadness when that space collapses.
Patsy Rodenburg, a renowned acting coach and voice expert, is an engaging speaker on the subjects of teaching, performing, presence, and intimacy. She has her own take on this material, a focus on energy, and her own terminology for the transitional space, calling it “the second circle.” For her it is the energetic space, the circle, in which one is fully present in the moment. Right here. Right now. Engaged and connected. I like conceiving of the present as a place. C.S. Lewis said, “The present is the only time in which any duty can be done or any grace received.” The transitional space or the second circle is the only place.
If you are grabbed by Patsy Rodenburg’s Second Circle, I also recommend a shorter and very moving recording in the TED collection called Why I Do Theatre.
Your comments are more than welcome. Sought after!
Tags: Donald Winnicott, Patsy Rodenburg, second circle, transitional space
I am reminded by this of an astonishing 4th grade teacher, now retired, in Lexington, MA. The first day of school every fall, kids assigned to his section entered a classroom empty of furniture of any kind. Stacked against the walls, there were building materials and tools — and that was all. The kids learned, immediately, that they were to design and build the environment that would become their 4th grade. And that it would probably take them all year. Thanks, Sally!
What a fabulous post. It’s material that will be “repurposed”–by me and by many others it is so good. I promise I’ll give you full credit. Bravo for such suavity, brevity and wisdom.
We are ever at the crossroads of here and now; thanks for reminding me to check the signpost. And for introducing me to Patsy Rodenburg. She’s quite wonderful.
I came over after seeing an excerpt of this beautiful post at Slow Muse.
Your third-to-last paragraph touches me greatly. In so few words you capture exactly the feeling, the intimacy, the letting go, the letting down.
I just was watching Patsy Rodenburg this past weekend and am including a video of her speaking about theatre in an upcoming post. I, too, found her story so tender.
Elatia, I would have loved to spend fourth grade in that room full of building supplies. Instead, my own home in adulthood frequently looks like a construction site, even when nothing is being built.
And Deborah, thank you, such an honor to show up on your Slow Muse. Consider yourself bowed to.
Monique, I am now tempted to make just such a HERE/NOW signpost for my studio — great reminder. Or perhaps for the corner of my street and Main? It also recalls the old Lily Tomlin riff in which she calls a cab and asks to be picked up at “…the corner of Walk and Don’t Walk.”