Madly gifted

Liminal space – I was introduced to that concept when I attended the School of the Spirit from 2004-6 for spiritual-nurture ministry. The term oozed attraction. I know that space, but never had a name for it.

Literally, it means the sill of a doorway, a point of entering or beginning. Scientifically, it suggests the point at which stimulus is intense enough to produce an effect, such as the threshold of consciousness or the threshold of pain.

I discover it to be the in-between place, when one thing has ended and another has not yet begun. For me, it is usually a sacred place, the time and space in which I especially tap God's help because I don't know what is next or yet to come. A place of rest AND trust.

My best friend recently teased me that I always like the transitional times: in life, the change of seasons, between sleep and wakefulness, the plane between spiritual and material. She is right. I tend to live there more often than not.

And I am there right now ... as I finish moving my studio, hope to wind down Artsy Fartsy and, perhaps, begin a job. Some projects seem VERY done, others still have loose ends and there is much I don't know. So, I focus on what I do know and staying nearer Spirit.

Liminal times are often frought with new growth  for me. I have rebirthed in this time and worked to re-pattern my brain and nervous system from being fear-based to rooted in the security of God's constant love. My shaman has a bumper sticker that says "LOVE < FEAR." I had't quite understood that until recently because I denied that I was living a fear-based life. Our world often pushes us to that brink.

In the midst, a week or 10 days ago, I just said to God "Ok, you do it. Whatever you want, help me to know it." Pieces seem to come one at a time and that is all I need.

A friend's Facebook post this morning caught my attention:

"Is the seeking to live a life of integrity day by day a sign of mental illness? I've been told that so many times by people who have jettisoned their own attention to a moral center ... determined to pursue what the Bible calls "mammon."

That is the struggle: to live faithfully in a world that is, essentially, faithless. Living there is truly a liminal space, dependent upon Spirit's movement and guidance. it's all to easy to be swayed from without.  I enjoyed some of the responses:

"It depends if the person you are pissing off by choosing a life of integrity instead of money has the power to diagnose you or get you diagnosed."

 "I, by the way, identify am madly gifted."

"Some ... believe that they must sacrifice their integrity and make ethical compromises for 'the greater good' ..." 

"Never lose yourself because someone who is lost bids you to follow."

"When one loses the moral compass of the minds, heart and soul we are well and truly lost. Hold fast to that piece within you that gives you peace."

Another Facebook friend – incredible that I am getting deep direction from what I typically think of as a superficial medium – has been posting daily about the beauty she sees each morning and God's hand in offering this day, this time to us NOW.

I believe the liminal spaces are times the veil thins, when we must wait and trust, turn inward and live with spiritual integrity day by day ... and feel free to tell others that we're madly gifted. God would certainly understand.

• When have I experiences liminality?
• What are qualities of those times?
• Did I experience God's closeness?
• How do I experience daily integrity?
• What choices must I make?


cut off
from
original
knowing

we are
swayed
by the
norm

until
we
reawaken

and choose
to live
apart

from within,
following
the stirrings
of the
Inner Teacher

learning to
wait
graciously

Putting the brakes on

I am learning how to walk again, really.

With the help of the Alexander Technique and a gifted teacher, I am re-learning my body's natural way of moving. I wondered if I were crazy when I quietly observed that I don't know how to hold my body anymore. And, yet that thought lingered. Low and behold, a process and a teacher appeared.

I have been examining the idea, even dreaming, about what holds me up and how I respond to that. I envision a cord or string as if I am a puppet and moving at the puppeteer's whim, not mine. And how gliding through the water is such a very different experience. One that seems more natural and freeing for me. In the pool, there's a palpable balance between being buffered by the water (relaxing into it) and in control enough not so sink. The yin/yang of trust and being. Bridging the spiritual and physical. Living in two worlds. I identified it once in my journals as the place between being the vigilant mother and the innocent child. Again, one of those liminal spaces.

I am attempting to be like a toddler again, physically. Moving in my natural patterns and rhythms. Before I modeled others and felt so "pushed" in this culture.

At the beginning of a recent lesson, Jennifer asked me: "Where are you right now?" You can't imagine how I struggled to answer. I began to talk about how I felt, what I had left behind to attend the session, everything but where I was. She patiently would ask again until I answered very simply. I kept looking to give her the answer I thought she wanted (yes, I am a pleaser who seeks approval). This was an eye opener, revealing that I am usually more concerned about where I have been or my next destination, mentally or physically. I have rarely considered my literal placement – except when practicing yoga, swimming, meditating or worshiping in silence "How can you know how to get where you want to go if you don't know where you are?" she gently asked.

What a significant and profound concept. How can I know where I want to go if I don't know where I am right now even just physically? Or in the bigger questions of life.

We have also talked about taking the brakes off, another concept that really speaks to me. Specifically, freeing the joints to move without a metaphorical foot on the brake pedal. No wonder I get frustrated thinking I am getting nowhere. The brakes are the puppeteer's string I mentioned earlier and they are hard to unencumber, yet I am learning how to disengage by thinking/being rather than doing.

Wow, imagine where I could be by taking the brakes off and knowing where I am. Nothing more, nothing less.


• How present am I physically?
• Would I describe my movement as intentional, natural or free?
• Do I even remember what that feels like?
• Are my brakes on?
• If I could relax them, where would I be?


I tend
to
forget
my
physical
self


assuming
its there
and
functioning


yes,
I often
get
painful
reminders,
which
require
attention


but
the root
of how
I move
remains,
largely,
unexplored

I cast
this
part
of me
aside
and below
the mental,
spiritual
and
psychological


because
it's almost
too obvious

how
do I
achieve
balance
and wholeness 
without
considering
all of
me?

Traveling inside to get out

Do I spend too much time inside myself? I wondered earlier today. Is that necessarily a bad thing?

I had that thought at the beginning of my swim, for which I already felt out of kilter postponing it by several hours to [willingly] accommodate a sick child. I could tell I had a lot pent up that I needed to release into the water. I ticked off the first few laps, letting the thoughts fill me, then settle somewhere else. One of those was the initial question I posed.

Somehow that led to wanting to swim hard and see if my skin could permeate the water or vice versa and I could feel as if I were the water, not just cutting through it. It was odd, crazy, calm and totally sane all knotted together. My body raced almost as fast as I had let my mind early on. I kept thinking about what a friend had shared awhile back about going to the place between the thought clouds as opposed to the conventional wisdom to let your thoughts float away like clouds.

So, while I hammered away, sluicing the waves I was creating, I revved up to go between the clouds.  Liminal space, I thought. I almost got carried away, which is what I wanted. Yet a slim thread kept me connected to the lane in the pool inside the gym. I do close my eyes some to swim, but open them when I raise my head for air every fourth stroke. It ensures I am swimming straight and keeping in my lane. I think if I could have swum with my eyes closed the whole time, I may have made it. But, I came pretty darn close. 

It triggered something; perhaps, just endorphins, but I am still experiencing the aftershock. It is as if the unnecessary and negative tension in my body leeched into the water, replaced with a peaceful and constant energy – a healing source. Like I had to wear out the unhealthy stuff inside by some sort of physical trickery. Odd and crazy, huh? Yet, I feel totally sane and calm, blissful.

So I was totally inside myself, yet also outside. Perhaps not exactly one with the water, but somewhere between my body and the water.

Next time I want to cut or break that thread. What happens then?

• How often do I travel inside myself? 

• Is it my usual inclination or something I force myself to do?

• What happens when I do?

• Can I find a transcendent space, somewhere that belongs inside, yet outside?

• Do I counter that in time spent with others? 

disappointed

not to get

my usual

time

needing and

knowing

it would

come

maybe

the change

in

rhythm

and expectation

shaped

a different

experience

entirely

one

in

a place

between