Living in Liminal Time

As I am writing this, I am prepping for a family vacation to Rehobeth Beach, Delaware. The cotton candy-colored suitcase that my son and daughter-in-law got me as a 60th birthday gift for my trip to Ireland in 2018 is almost fully packed. Swimsuits, shorts, tank tops, hippie-esque cotton dresses, beach towels, and sandals fill its ample space. I am counting the days until we will be lounging on the beach, floating in the pool, and chasing after my 16-month-old full-fledged toddler grandson as he delights in his new surroundings. At the end of last summer, we traveled for a day trip to the Jersey shore where we timidly emerged from our cocoons, decked out in masks on the boardwalk. He dipped his toes in the ocean and played in the sand with the exploratory glee of an able to stand, but not yet walk baby. This year, the face coverings will be worn in restaurants if we choose to venture in. Most of our meals will be prepared in the condo we are renting. Since my son is a self-taught chef, I imagine we will not starve. My son-daughter-in-law and her parents (with brief cameo appearances by her sister and brother) will be together for the first extended period of time. We spend overlapping segments during the shift change in child care and on holidays and birthdays. Hoping we all vacation well together.

I told the kids that my fantasy is encountering President Joe and Dr. Jill since they own a home there. My son rolled his eyes as he often does at his mother’s wild imaginings saying that my purple hair might encourage the Secret Service to keep me away. I am really good at manifesting my dreams and desires. I’ll keep you posted.

While my mind meanders to fresh clear beach air, my body is still here in PA seeing clients in my therapy practice, and writing articles in advance so that my time away will truly be a vacation from my regular work schedule. I am listening to the sound of contractors who are completing work on a newly renovated room that used to house a hot tub. My husband and I purchased it in the early 90s to help ease the pain from neuropathy he experienced with Hepatitis C. I used it for years after his death in 1998, but it has lain dormant for a few turns of the calendar page since it sucked up a lot of electricity and evaporated a lot of water. After they removed it, what was unveiled was a mess of black mold. I had to hire a professional to remediate it. Now the room is getting the lovely finishing touches. I intend for it to be a space where I meditate in zen bliss.

Another not-quite-done project is the purchase of a new computer. The one I am grateful to be typing on now has been nursed to old age. The camera went kablooey so I have an external camera attached to the top. The keyboard is limping along with some keys stuck, so I have a portable keyboard. I had ordered the new one from Dell early on in June and was told that it would arrive yesterday. Excited, I planned to take it to my local tech biz to transfer files and set it up for me to use. A few days ago, I got a notification that for who knows what reason, the shipping would be delayed until September. Nope. I called and canceled the order and will be picking up a new one, likely today from Best Buy. I plan to leave both with them while I am on vacation, so I won’t be tempted to work, but we’ll see when they can do their handiwork.

In the meantime, I have been sending out queries for new projects, which I call seed-planting. I scatter them, water and nurture them and then step back and let them take root. Some develop into exquisite fields of wildflowers while others shrivel on the vine. I much prefer the first.

I have opportunities out there in the future, which include a magazine cover (photoshoot will be happening at the end of July), a few articles in which I have been quoted, another article that was written but not yet published, a mention in a book on kindness that will be available this week, and PR projects humming along, bringing exposure to my clients.

All of this takes patience, which is not my strong suit, although, to my credit, I have gotten better at surrender. That is one lesson that has come, courtesy of the pandemic. What I thought I had to put on hold, has allowed me to do my own inner renovations and excavations.

Last week, I had an intense dream last night about many whales washed ashore that were eviscerated and laying wide open. My immediate sense was that a horrific environmental catastrophe had taken place and I felt helpless to do anything about it. I found myself walking through the whale graveyard, crying and wondering why the other people there weren’t as concerned.

As my friend, Dream Guide, Ken Kaplan always advises, I had a conversation with them as aspects of myself. They told me to only take on what I could, piece by piece, not the entirety of what needed to be done in the world. Whales are massive beings and sometimes the undertakings feel massive and insurmountable. There are times when I want to wail at the injustice in the world. Their guts were wide open and exposed and I feel that way sometimes. I actually climbed inside some of them (in the belly of the whale).

I will continue to process the dream as it speaks to me of the need to hang in there and wait to see what happens as the Leviathan leaps from the deep.

One of my favorite authors, speakers, kindred spirits, and fellow ‘Holy Rascal’ is Dr. Joan Borysenko. She teaches on the topic of liminal time. She describes it as “that pregnant pause between what is no longer and what is not yet.”

Oh, that is so hard for me. I want immediate gratification and there was a time when I felt that events weren’t unfolding as rapidly as I desired. I have learned to embrace the Goldilocks/Baby Bear Principle and allow what is to be ‘just right’.

I’m excited to witness what emerges.

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This post is republished on Medium.

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