The Space Between My Steps

Finding presence in the invisible places

I don’t always know how to hear myself, but something inside me always remembers. And to that remembering, I keep coming back.
It’s a day-to-day journey — not only worth taking, but life-changing. And that is what I’m here for.

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Looking us back | Noga Avital

This morning was a day off from my conventional work, where four to five days a week, I help children walk their own way and learn to respect others’ ways too. To do my job the best I can, I have to invest in myself, keep asking whether I could do better, and communicate openly with co-workers, parents, my family, and friends. It’s what I practice daily, regardless of the work itself. But there, it helps me stay focused within a structured framework while doing a lot more than the job requires.

On the other days, I choose to take it slowly, even slower than usual. I walk my own path, alone or with my family, taking time to recharge and strengthen my core. As I do at the end of each day, but with more ease and energy. But not every week allows that. Life… you know. We do everything we can, in the time we’re given.

This morning, when I set my intention, it wasn’t a clear one. It was a quiet one.
A heart-whisper. A silent yes.

It’s a pretty complex path sometimes, trying in each moment to make it my own. To grow with it. To help others grow in their own direction. To hold my boundaries and honor my freedom. And somehow, to let it all transform into reality. But I can’t not direct myself there. It’s my truth calling me from within, and I do everything I can to trust it — even when it feels awkward, off balance, or hard to hold.

I keep telling myself that I trust my inner rhythm and I listen to others’ rhythms too, so it must guide me in my own direction, without intentionally hurting others. I wish to make the best of it for the people I care about most and to give back to this beloved universe. Humanity has forgotten too many times how to put ego aside.
I practice bringing my ego to the surface so it won’t control me. I try to notice it, give it space, and choose how to work with it. I haven’t yet come to a full understanding of its role, but I do know it’s something I’ve been given. And if I’ve been given it, there must be a reason.

So, right before I left the house to drop my son off at school, my mat called me to take it with me. I wasn’t sure if I felt like being outside with my yoga and meditation practice, but I held the option. I gave him a goodbye kiss and set him free to go through his day. Four days a week, he knows I’m close by because I work at the same school he learns in. It’s a privilege we have, living in a small village with not enough human resources. I continued to the place that holds the slowest energy I know: nature. The desert. Just a 20-second drive from school. Four minutes from home.

It was an hour after I got out of bed, where I had secretly planted my intention. I was still in my car when a woman I love reading here invited people into her space: “Tell me a word you’re embracing or inviting in this week” rhiana meri. The word that popped into my mind was salvation. I knew my mind was simply interpreting something my spirit already knew. So I wrote it and let the meaning wash over me.

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The In Between

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I was about to step out of the car, still hesitating, when I got a message about some puzzles someone was selling. I had asked her to keep them for me until this morning. “I’m here, you can come,” she wrote. So instead of figuring out if it was aligned for me to go out to the desert while already walking that path, I headed to her place.

We had a nice small talk. I could feel myself both uncomfortable and comfortable at once. One of the teachers was there, her boyfriend, I guess, cuddled up in the living room, feeling sick. It was surprising, familiar, and new all at the same time. I just allowed myself to feel it all. Enjoy the small talk. Feel a bit embarrassed seeing him there. I took everything I could from that moment in time, and moved on.

As I got back into the car, my beloved called me, wondering where I was. I told him
I had picked up the puzzles and was now heading to the cliff for yoga. Suddenly, there was no hesitation. It became clear: this was what I wanted, what I needed before returning home. I welcomed the doubt, the hesitation, and kept moving with my flow. That small moment of not rushing myself had let me find myself out there with confidence and trust, rather than being pushed into something. There were times when I took the mat with me, but something inside called me home instead. And there were times when I didn’t take it, but as I passed by the place where I love to breathe desert air, I stopped without planning, without preparation, and just went out there.

So I guess it’s about listening. Staying open. Not feeling like I have to stick to one structured plan. Letting the flow carry me and also hearing when it asks me to stand still.

It’s a wonder, living in a place with such enormous energy. I don’t go out into the landscape often. It’s a bit crazy, I know… to have that view, that ground, so close and still not visit more. But it’s a lot for me. I get overwhelmed by the bare beauty and intense energy, so I choose special moments to experience it. Because I don’t want to be there just because people from all over the world come to visit. And I don’t want to lose the wonder, to make it too obvious. Too accessible. So I only come when I feel a strong calling. Maybe I’m missing something, I don’t know… But I don’t want this breathtaking landscape to become just another thing I walk past. I don’t want to miss its essence, especially when I’ve been given the privilege to breathe it all in.

And today, I felt I could hold its essence close, without losing my own.

So I sat there. Wildly, but on my mat. Earth-vibration sounds playing softly from my phone, helping me connect both energies: mine and nature’s. I simply sat. Absorbing. And maybe most importantly, allowing myself to shift and change forms in the moment.

There were moments when I only wanted to listen to nature. Moments when my soul called. And moments when reality called, and I didn’t pretend it wasn’t there.
One man had just finished a desert hike. His wife, or maybe his friend, came to take a picture of him. A large group of travelers walked right by. Two men made their way down a steep path, fully focused on not slipping.

Only the first few of the group made contact. “You’re having so much fun,” the guide said, smiling wide. I smiled back. “You guys get to have some fun too.” To them, it looked like a miracle. I heard a few words about how amazing it is to do what I do.
I was just there, in the wild, at ease with nature, meditating, practicing yoga, writing. And to me, that simple moment, just a few minutes from home, was a miracle too.
But I saw their miracle as well. They came all the way here, to my home surroundings, and let themselves wander. Each of us, in our own miracle, in that moment.

And my wider intention is to see and live many moments like that. And the amazing thing is, I actually get to experience them. Whether it’s making puzzles with my son and singing songs together, getting a moment with my man before he heads to work, or having my writing by my side during the day, or like now, when I have it all to myself, when no one needs me.

So my journey might look, depending on the angle, easy or complicated. Understood, or: “What the hell is she doing there, taking so much time for herself?” or “giving so much of herself to others?” But this is the only way I can walk and feel whole.
Feel me. Feel purpose. And over the years, step by step, I’m learning to own that. To take responsibility for my emotions, my thoughts, and choose, one moment at a time, how to work with them. To be aware as much as I can and be the version I wish to be. For me, for my family, for the world.

I no longer wish to squeeze myself into tight shapes. I no longer want to press myself into small molds, just to be received. I’m not here to satisfy a version of me that I wish I could be in the moment or that others wish I would be. I’m here to walk in my own size, to walk at the pace that fits my nature.

I’ve come to understand that sometimes, my authenticity can feel like too much for people. It makes them uncomfortable, not because of me, but because of themselves. Maybe they’re not used to meeting themselves the way I meet myself. And yes, I get to feel uncomfortable in my own skin sometimes too. But the amazing part is, I’m learning to embrace that feeling. I’ve learned I don’t need to shrink into a version of myself just to make others feel at ease. And I can hold myself even in the moments where I feel like a bit of a stranger to myself, and somehow, more familiar at the same time.

So just as I don’t try to make others uncomfortable when I catch them off guard, I won’t do it to myself either. I won’t put on a version of me that feels out of harmony.
And I won’t wear a version that’s too predictable but doesn’t fit me anymore just because I wish I could be that version in the moment.

I listen. To what my heart whispers. To what my body signals.
Then I move into the next moment. Feeling safer, more assured that I’ll be okay.
That everything is okay.

When I write about the way I live my life, it might sound like I’m trying too hard to some. Or like it’s too much work. And on the other hand, some people might think I’m not taking enough risks, not just jumping into the cold water. But I want to stop thinking about what others think, because either way - I’m still doing me.
I know that I show up every single day, even if it’s just by taking a conscious breath when my son or my partner say something that could hurt me, and instead of reacting, I choose to remember they are walking their own path, that they want the best for themselves and for me too.

So this way of living, for me, is natural. To take myself into awareness — moment by moment, as much as I can. This is how I’ve trained myself over the years, ever since I was a child who had to protect herself when no one else could. It wasn’t my mind that saved me. It was my spirit, guiding my body and mind along a path that would lead me to the best version of who I am.

I have my own share of missing out. Of wishing I could have done better. Of still wanting to be better. But because I take everything into my heart and also learn to work with my mind, I’m getting better and better at aligning with myself and finding compassion for the moments I’m not. I also know that every time I choose to share here, from my heart, in a language that’s not my native tongue, it’s another decision to jump into a pool I’m still learning how to swim in.

Maybe that’s also part of the ego - my sense of self. It waves at me sometimes, reminding me that I’m not just a traveler in this world, I’m also a resident. I have a name. An ID. A passport. I have an identity. And I want to carry all of that with me. Something I keep close as I move through the world with my family, learning from different cultures and people. People who may look or live differently, but who, in the end, are not so different after all. And through experiencing the world together, I allow my identity to evolve — yet still feel it’s me out there.

So if others have ideas about my life or my decisions, that’s all they are, their ideas.
What truly matters is the trust I have in the vision I hold for my own path.
And that vision becomes more real, step by step.
I intend to walk it naturally.

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Own Your Path | Nollage | 2024

This—this way of bringing myself into awareness—is my natural form.

So yes, it’s a walking path. Maybe a longer one than others choose. But it’s the only path I can walk. The path of my spirit. Leading my heart, body, and soul.

I trust this path. I trust its pace, its turns, its rhythm. I trust myself within it.

And I want to share something with you. I have no idea if my path resonates with yours, but if it does, I’d be more than happy to feel your presence. To offer a hand when it’s needed and to receive yours, whenever it feels right for you. Because we’re all here together on this roller coaster of life. Sometimes it’s frightening. Sometimes it’s calm. But it’s all part of a great magic we can barely grasp.

So I say, let’s roll with it. Let’s enjoy it. Suffer through it, if needed. But let’s hold this in our hearts:

We are human. We feel. We think. We experience.

So the most important thing is to embrace everything life has for us. Let’s embrace ourselves within it so we can truly say we’re living our lives, and not someone else’s.

And with saying it, something quiet arrives. Not a loud realization, more like a hum beneath the surface, steady and clear. A moment that asks me to gather all the pieces and wander through them with myself. I get a reminder.
I ask myself: what did salvation come to guide me toward? What does this term mean to me? I go inward and a memory rises. Someone once told me, an artist, that it takes her a certain number of months to finish each piece she makes.
She said: “No matter how I try to make it faster, to technically work on it in different ways, it always comes down to the same place - it doesn’t work. So I gave up on trying, and I accepted: this is my pace, this is how I create.”

I couldn’t understand that as deeply back then as I do today. Now I can truly appreciate how she never gave up on her truth. As much as she wanted to create faster and sell more pieces, she wouldn’t trade her process of becoming through it for anything. Even if she didn’t have words for it, even if she only saw it from the technical side, she allowed her art to guide her and she trusted it.

I think now how beautiful it is to give that kind of respect to your art. To honor the pace of something becoming.
I hope I’m giving my art the respect it’s asking for. It feels like it knows it’s always changing and evolving even when I’m not there to hold its hand. And in that, I’m giving it freedom. Freedom to be, to speak to me, and to help me grow.

And you know, there are things we achieve quickly, and others that take half a lifetime or more. And sometimes, the things that take us the longest are someone else’s easiest gifts. What matters most in our pace is that we are attentive to it. What comes easily can be our secret power. What we struggle with most can be our path to greater freedom within ourselves.

Now I can put cleartly what salvation means to me:

The acceptance of our own rhythm, the trust to follow it with our whole being,
and the knowing that our whole being is an endlessly evolving form.

Time Stops | Noga Avital

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I’ve never been drawn to the race.
Competing for something that doesn’t feel like mine... has never been my way.
So when life shakes my beliefs, I pause.
I listen.
I check in with myself.

Does this still feel true?
Does it reflect the values I choose to live by, in each aware moment?
Only then, I move.
In my way.
At my pace.

Here with you,

Noga | FreeSpirited | Nollage

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Noga Avital | Free Spirited
Nollage | The Art of Connection

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