Sometimes something is left over from a creative process, that no longer has any purpose. This is called a spandrel. Our belly button is a wonderful example. Every fetus, and hence human, has one. And yet after we are born it serves no purpose. For another example, ask yourself how train tracks were designed. Did you guess the size of a wagon pulled by two horses? Yep. So this means tunnels and train cars and everything they carry is based on the size of those wagon spandrels.
We create spandrels in many ways. A rough draft of an article, with a few sentences we adore, becomes a spandrel restricting our creative expression. A friend we have invested in since we were in grade school, and who has become a spandrel that prevents us from seeing the dangers in this relationship. Perhaps we have trinkets that meant something in the moment, but no longer represent how we see ourselves. Or gifts we received, that we never wanted or liked, but feel we must keep.
The same is true of beliefs and perceptions, ways of seeing ourselves and those around us. We hold on to beliefs that were burned into us as children. If we were bullied, then we are flawed forever. If we had issues with our weight, grades, or friendships, we define ourselves by flaws we have outgrown. If we survived by living in a dream world or pushing everyone away, we will cling to these behaviors long after they serve any purpose. They worked at one time and were necessary, but now only derail our forward motion.
Why are we addicted to the spandrels in our life? We cling so desperately to items, beliefs, or behaviors that no longer provide joy or safety, relying on our past to guide our future. Perhaps we are terrified of discovering we are verbs and not nouns. We are meant to experience life as a process of metamorphosis, a journey without guarantees or assurances, or a clear destination. Spandrels deceive us and simultaneously comfort us. We can cling to the past, even dreading the memories, by embracing the spandrels that no longer define us.
What would happen if we released them? Our belly button will not disappear, but even if it did, we would still exist. If our memories floated away like clouds on a windy day, we would remain free to create a future we crave.