my own liminal

Bussaco forest, Portugal

I often discuss thresholds, and the liminal, and rites of passage, with the people I talk with.

And suddenly, here I am, laboriously writing with one hand, catapulted, without warning, into my own in-between. In the space of weeks I have had the foundations shimmy away from under me as my relationship ended abruptly, and then my arm broke, and I now am forced to manage my life in the rawness of necessity. I am having to walk the talk like never before.

This balm was sent to me today by a wise woman I know. Pause in the poem, then read about the poet, if you are so inclined.

You have been forced to enter empty time.

The desire that drove you has relinquished.

There is nothing else to do now but rest

And patiently learn to receive the self

You have forsaken for the race of days.

At first your thinking will darken

And sadness take over like listless weather.

The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have traveled too fast over false ground;

Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up

To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain

When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,

Taking time to open the well of color

That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone

Until its calmness can claim you.

Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.

Learn to linger around someone of ease

Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,

Having learned a new respect for your heart

And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

~ John O'Donohue, "For One Who Is Exhausted, a Blessing."

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to rage or surrender?

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Tarology, by Enrique Enriquez