by Peter Ellsworth

I have become obsessed with space. Perhaps I have always been obsessed with space. In fact, aren't we all obsessed with space? I have long believed that it is an unquenchable thirst for a complete love that characterizes human existence. Now I also realize that love is just another word for no space. Lovers strive to have no space between themselves and the beloved. My wife is in her 8th month of pregnancy. She loves the life within her and she also has virtually no space left within her or her clothes. The beginning of life is characterized by no space. Another example is Lin Ludy's hugs which leave no space between her and the lucky recipient. Her hugs are very close to being a perfect expression of love.

We spend our lives pushing and pulling the limits of space. As a hormonally initiated teenager I spent endless hours, mostly fruitless, on the dance floor, in the car, and on my parents' couch trying to reduce the space between myself and my date. I thought I was in love. I wanted no space. Eventually I discovered a woman who also wanted no space and we married. Our marriage vows could easily have said, "In sickness and health, to have and to hold, with no space."

Shalem is searching for new space to house its programs and operations. What might come as a surprise, however, is that Shalem is also searching for no space--that is, between ourselves and perfect space. Everyone at Shalem has his or her idea of this perfect space. The descriptions of perfect bring with them such necessities as private parking, a reasonable price, lots of light, plenty of room, a Jacuzzi which could accommodate the entire Board of Directors, and a safe neighborhood. This property does not exist in the Washington metropolitan area. I have propelled many real estate agents into fits of hysterical laughter by reciting this list to them. Undaunted, we continue to search for nonexistent space because we all want no space between us and what we love and desire.

During our search for no space over the last several months, I have discovered that real estate brokers are in fact love brokers. They spend their days struggling to find their clients some space which will be the right space. Their language of love gently bespeaks the many degrees of space. Everything they describe spatially is spoken of in square feet. Wanting to be a more loving person, I now measure all things in square feet, such as to the street vendor, "I'll have the one square foot hot dog please," or to my wife, "The party Friday night is about 20,000 square feet from our house." I now also realize how small my office really is--it's about the same square footage as my pants after they have been through the dryer. Indeed, I proudly acknowledge that I have the smallest office at Shalem. In fact I have virtually no space. This is why I am so happy and can write an article such as this.

Many of the issues concerning space are brought up during Shalem's infamous committee meetings. Committee meetings are very important at Shalem. We use them to reach critical decisions, share intellectual discourse and to justify eating several pounds of imported cheese while staring at a slowly melting candle.

One of the more influential Shalem committees is the Space Committee. The primary purpose of this committee is to discuss the ongoing search for perfect space, which I have mentioned does not exist, and share creative ideas around funding the purchase of this nonexistent space. The concept of JerryWear, for example, was the brainchild of one of these committee meetings. For those of you who don't purchase used clothing from contemplative spiritual organizations, JerryWear, named for its founder Jerry May, are clothes designed for the sensitive though uninhibited guy who isn't shy about wearing a tee-shirt under a sports coat. I have conducted an informal market survey to gauge interest in Shalem's soon-to-be-released summer line of Jerry Wear. I took the liberty of slipping a picture of Jerry sitting in a full lotus position smartly modeling his layer-look ensemble into the last Shalem News mailing. I included a brief questionnaire where I asked such informative questions as, "Would you buy these clothes if we charged outrageous prices for them?" and "Do you like to fish, smoke a pipe and recite a mantra simultaneously?" The response to the survey has been overwhelming. I have received cards expressing positive interest from such parties as M. Gibson, K. Costner, the Moose Lodge of Greater San Francisco, my aunt in Kentucky, Patricia Clark, and the St. Alban's Boys Choir. In light of this apparent hysteria over Jerry's threads, I have enlisted the help of a well-known perfumologist to create a special scent to go with the clothes-"Blissed-Out by Jerry." It would smell like a mixture of wet cowhide and liturgical incense. We'd advertise in distinguished spiritual journals with one of those seductive black and white glossy photos of sweaty entangled bodies--sort of like the body prayer class out of control. Of course all this would have to be approved by the Shalem Board of Directors and the EPA, but I am certain that the financial rewards Shalem would reap would allow us to buy one of Tilden's many houses which are currently on the market.

The search for no space has been progressing somewhat slowly, and some might say this is due to the way Shalem reaches decisions. Committee decisions are generally reached using an unique organizational behavior technique developed at the Rogers School of Humanistic Industrious Psychology in Tulsa, Oklahoma. This technique, known as the "consenseless decision-making process," is based on years of research and scientific fabrication. The members of Shalem have been strongly committed to engaging in senseless acts of beauty ever since someone read a bumper sticker on the way into work one day 21 years ago. The "consenseless process" complements this mission goal perfectly. Basically, when using "consenseless decision-making," we go around the room during a committee meeting asking for each individual's feelings around a particular subject. When an individual starts making sense they are struck with a meditation pillow and politely asked to leave the room until they can stop making sense. Typically, answering our phones for 5 to 10 minutes will do the trick.

I realize that this concept of no space might be hard to grasp at first, but then so was the idea that I would some day be participating in a hedonistic Shalem event called Pie Day where responsible adults spend several hours wildly eating a couple dozen pies until they collapse from insulin shock. Many Shalem members have had recurring dreams of a new space infused by blue light and enclosed by one big circular wall. What does this mean, besides the probability that these individuals are in need of a full-body Reiki massage? I think it means that Shalem is seeking an expression of an infinite love, the no space of life. Some day, maybe soon, Shalem will find a less than perfect building and fill it with a new generation of dreams, laughter, hugs and silence. We will breathe out our spirit breath to fill up the space until there is nearly no space left.