What Spaciousness Makes Room For
A few weekends ago, I didn't plan anything. That might be why it worked.
It started with an impromptu road trip — a soul sister, a car, and the willingness to follow what felt alive.
We ended up at Blue Sky Ranch, a grassroots festival rising out of the Saskatchewan prairie. Outbuildings transformed into spaces for creativity and connection. Music. Art. People who pour into their craft and their community.
And all around, the land itself doing what it always does: holding everything quietly, asking nothing in return.
Huge glacial rocks had been deposited here and there across the land — ancient, unhurried, unmoved — contrasting against the North Saskatchewan River flowing far below.
Above, the sky began pale blue and then, as we watched the sun sink toward the horizon, colour crept in. Soft at first, then burning bright. Pinks, oranges, and yellows blazing as the day let go.
The outer landscape reflecting our inner worlds.
Then north. A full moon pouring down on the lake where my parents live, bearing gentle witness as we laid our heads to rest.
Finally Sunday — a full day of making art alongside my mom, guided by the luminous Rigmor Clarke and local artists Nadine Jones and Donna Muller.
People came from neighbouring farms and towns — all ages, all ranges of experience — emerging from their winter cocoons to create in community. And in doing so, to create community. There is something quietly radical about people choosing to make something beautiful together, especially in a season that asks so much of us just to endure.
Full Flower Moon over lake in North-Central Saskatchewan - May 2026 - Photo by Karla Combres
My favourite part of this whole experience lived quietly inside that day.
My mom has spent her whole life certain she (in her own words) “doesn't have an artistic bone in her body”. That Sunday, she got softly lost in painting. A photograph she'd taken of the Crooked Trees, an ancient bluff that has captivated visitors for generations, rendered into something entirely her own.
I had never seen her inhabit that space before.
We talked sometimes. Sometimes we just made. Time seemed to stand still.
The sky outside had done it earlier: pale becoming vibrant, restrained becoming radiant. And here, quietly, my mom was doing the same thing.
This is what spaciousness makes room for.
Not productivity or progress, but something softer and unexpected.
Surprise. Beauty. The version of someone you love that you've never met yet.
I think about this often in my work: how the moments that matter rarely announce themselves. They arrive in the silences we're willing to sit in. In the rooms we actually show up for. In the 26-hour escapes we almost talked ourselves out of.
We don't have to go far. We just have to be willing to actually arrive.
Only 26 hours away. But each moment held infinity.
An Invitation to Create Space in Your Life
If you're drawn to creating more of this kind of spaciousness in your own life — the pausing, the reflecting, the arriving — I'd love to have you join us in the Heart of Being Human. It's a free online gathering, twice monthly, where we make room for exactly this kind of conversation.
Photo credit: Emma Love Photography
Author: Karla Combres
As a Legacy Guide & Celebrant, I help individuals, couples, families and organizations make the big and small moments in life count, and shape their legacy along the way. I offer:
Drawing on my vast experience as a Life-Cycle Celebrant and in working with people at the end of life, I am uniquely qualified to help people move through transitions meaningfully and to think about how they want to leave this world so they can live better now.
I’m based in Saskatchewan, Canada and serve clients worldwide. Read more about me here.