The Crack: How I Found the Space Between Stories

People usually have an odd reaction when they hear me talk about the Crack. They think I’m being crude or joking—and I kind of am—but the joke has layers. Because the Crack isn’t something you get your underwear stuck in or something that smells like crap. It’s the small, almost invisible space that exists between opposites—between this and that, between shame and pride, right and wrong, past and future. It’s the one place in human experience that the story can’t reach.

The Crack is the seam in reality where presence peeks through. Stay there long enough, and the stories can’t use you anymore.

Mapping Polarity

I stumbled into the idea years ago while mapping polarity—trying to understand why we keep repeating the same emotional loops. I noticed that every time I thought, “I feel this way because of…”—fill in the blank—an entire story would unfold to support that declaration. It was like the universe was listening, waiting for me to announce my intention. And the moment I did, it went to work bending reality: pulling experiences toward me, reshaping my intuition to notice only what confirmed who I said I was. Each identification opened a new rabbit hole—endless possibilities, all orbiting the story I’d claimed as my own.

One day I imagined those two emotional circles side by side. Where they curved into each other, there was this little almond-shaped space—a gap that wasn’t shame, and wasn’t the story either. That tiny middle space felt like truth, like silence, like home. I noticed it, “The Crack.” My mind is never far from the gutter where it lives, so I thought the Crack profoundly preposterous—and just the tool I needed to pop me out of the collective story. And it stuck. My mantra became: Keep your nose in the Crack and don’t look back. The humor reminded me how unserious the stories really are.

The Choice Point

I spent decades swinging between stories that justified the feelings I carried—shame, guilt, anger. After all, that’s how we’re supposed to feel, right?

When my husband cheated on me and I ended up living in a 350-square-foot trailer in the desert—hell, actually—for a while I blamed my anger and hurt on him. But when I finally discovered the Crack, I saw that I had a choice. I could see it as betrayal—and with that story would come all the usual emotions: anger, shame, resentment, jealousy. Or I could see it as an answer to my prayer—the reveal of his true character and the secret he’d been hiding, the one I had sensed intuitively but couldn’t name.

What the Crack Really Is

That’s what the Crack really is—the neutral point where opposites collapse and awareness just is. It’s not bliss or denial; it’s balance so pure the story loses traction. From there, emotion can still arise—I still feel everything deeply: shame, anger, fear—but it passes through like weather. I feel it without becoming it. No polarity, no loop. If it’s particularly nasty, I bind it and cast it out.

When I notice I’m slipping into a story, I intentionally choose neither side. I let the whole polarity collapse. The world is always either ending or beginning, right? We’re always perishing or thriving, falling or rising. I choose to stay in the Crack and let the full creative force of the universe pull the most perfect expression of life through me that it can. That’s what we’re here to experience—not suffering, not this endless performance of pain. We are presence.

Names for the Same Space

Every great teaching hints at this space. Buddhism calls it non-attachment. Quantum physics calls it the observer effect. I call it the Crack because it’s earthy, human, and impossible to confuse with a doctrine. It’s the seam in reality where presence peeks through.

How to Stay in the Crack

When I say stay in the Crack, what I mean is: stay aware of the gap between emotion and explanation. Don’t chase the “because.” Don’t build a new story to justify the feeling. Just feel it, hold awareness steady, and watch the energy discharge. The more you do that, the more you live from the Crack—clear, grounded, untouchable.

Why It Matters

That’s the foundation of everything I teach. Field Mapping, emotional sovereignty, the inversion—it all begins here. The Crack is the still point where the machinery of story breaks down and you begin to see reality as it truly is: fluid, luminous, and free.

So yeah, laugh if you need to. But when I say “keep your nose in the Crack,” I mean stay in presence. It’s funny, sure—but it’s also the most direct spiritual instruction I’ve ever found. And once you find it, you’ll know exactly what I mean.

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“The Crack is the seam in reality where presence peeks through. Stay there long enough, and the stories can’t use you anymore.”

Binding

I see you.

I feel you.

You have been witnessed and released.

By my word, my breath, and my will, the field is clear.