5 - Expansion and Contraction

Toye Oyelese

Welcome back to The Sphere of Reality. I'm Toye Oyelese, and, if you've been following along, you know we've been circling this idea that reality isn't just sitting there, untouched—it's changing as you move through it. It's like this: you're at the center, kind of radiating outward, and there's this fuzzy edge, that's what you know, what's familiar, what you’ve made sense of. And, as for what’s outside? That’s antevalence, just this unshaped, undefined possibility, sitting in the dark until you reach for it.

Toye Oyelese

Today, let's tackle the simple but oddly slippery idea: what makes your sphere—your reality—expand or contract? Frankly, it’s action. Not thinking about acting, not imagining all the things you could do, but actually stepping outside that comfort zone you’ve built. It’s doing that pulls the edge outward, not just wanting.

Toye Oyelese

For example, think about learning something new. The first time I ever tried snowshoeing, right after my third Canadian winter... well, I was a fish out of water. But that action—floundering through the snow, literally falling over sometimes—suddenly there was a new corner of reality I’d mapped. Or maybe it’s meeting someone new, striking up a conversation at the bus stop, or even starting a job in a place that isn't quite your turf. All these are ways, big or small, where your boundary nudges outward. Not by theorizing. By doing.

Toye Oyelese

Actually, this reminds me—when I first arrived in Canada, I felt... well, adrift. I didn’t know anyone, and there were days when I wondered if I’d ever really fit in. What changed things for me was volunteering at a local clinic. It was awkward at first—no, actually, I’ll admit, it was terrifying. I didn’t even get all the local slang! But showing up, even when it would have been easier to retreat—that grew my world. Suddenly, I had a connection, stories, new routines. That clinic became a little island of home in a sea of unfamiliar. My sphere got bigger, not because I meant to, but because I took a step.

Toye Oyelese

So, it’s not just about what you intend—it’s what you do. Every bit of action, every nudge, moves the edge of your reality outward. Don’t let anyone convince you it’s just about having potential. We’ll get to that bit later. But for now, the main thing: your boundary grows when you act. Simple as that. Or... well, maybe not so simple—but direct.

Toye Oyelese

But, okay, let’s flip it. What about when reality shrinks? That boundary doesn’t only push outward, it can pull in too. And that happens when you step back, when you decide—maybe unconsciously, maybe on purpose—to close off from something.

Toye Oyelese

Sometimes, it’s as basic as inaction. You just don’t bother, you let things atrophy. Like, you ever notice how if you stop calling friends, after a while, those connections start to fade? That’s contraction. Or it’s fear. There are places or conversations you avoid, because something in you says, “No, not safe. Not today.” And the edges pull in.

Toye Oyelese

Trauma’s another big one—when something blasts through your existing structures, and you just can’t fit it in. It knocks parts of your reality loose, and you retreat for safety. I’ve seen this in medicine; people who get overwhelmed by illness or loss, and begin living in just a small corner of their former world. But you see it everywhere.

Toye Oyelese

Honestly, even in my own life, I wasn’t immune. There was a time, not that long ago, I hesitated to share my photographs. Now, you might think, why would someone who’s spent years in new places, starting clinics, be reluctant about, um, sharing pictures of trees and sunsets? But that’s the thing about contraction—it almost never makes sense from the outside. I was scared of being out of place, of not fitting in, of being “that older guy with the weird accent and the even weirder jokes”—which, alright, is a pretty accurate description. So I shrank back, kept my photos to myself, stopped engaging with something I really love.

Toye Oyelese

Then, one day, my clinic director saw the pictures in my office—“Hey, these would look really good on the clinic walls” And just like that, I have a gallery of my photographs in clinic and tons of admirers. But there was a period there where my world got smaller, just because retreat felt safer. And I think we all do that, in big and small ways. We contract, protect, close up. Sometimes it’s necessary. Often, though, it keeps us from growing.

Toye Oyelese

So, if you find yourself closing off, try not to be too hard on yourself. It’s part of being human, especially after difficult things happen, or when uncertainty feels like too much to handle. But, notice it. That’s the first step to gently reopening those doors.

Toye Oyelese

Now, here’s a myth I keep bumping into—maybe you have too: the idea that your potential, all the things you “could” do, somehow counts for more than what you’re actually doing. You know, “Well, I could run a marathon if I just trained,” or “I could chase that promotion, I could move to a new city, I could reconnect with so-and-so.” But—here’s the catch—potential by itself doesn’t move your boundary at all. Not even an inch.

Toye Oyelese

You might be sitting on a mountain of unrealized possibility. But if you’re not taking steps, your sphere of reality stays where it is. It doesn’t matter how high the pile of “coulds” gets. From what I’ve seen—in medicine, in my own zigzag path—it’s only what you actually do that shifts things. It’s the small actions that draw new territory inside your lived reality.

Toye Oyelese

So, maybe let’s try something concrete this week. Think about one small step you can take—something new, or maybe something you’ve been purposely avoiding. It doesn’t have to be dramatic. Maybe it’s calling an old friend, joining that club, picking up a book, or, heck, dusting off your snowshoes. See what happens when you deliberately push the edge, even just a bit.

Toye Oyelese

And—and, I guess, as we’re wrapping up—just remember, don’t overestimate what potential alone does. We all do it, I think. The real change is in engagement. In showing up. In doing.

Toye Oyelese

That’s where I’ll leave it for today. I hope these reflections help you notice the moments your reality nudges outward—or inward—and maybe inspire you to take a new action, however small. Next time, we’ll look at what happens when these growing spheres meet each other, collide and overlap, and, well, sometimes spark a bit of chaos. I’m Toye Oyelese, and this is The Sphere of Reality.