The Liminal Space
Stillness
A daily place I go to orientate. Tumbleweed silence. Fresh deep pools of nothing-at-all swirling heavily in my midst. There’s no bed for ego and vanity here. Those jailbreak twins need neon and attentional eyes. Starved and blinded, they soon hobble off into lostness. This leaves me. Decoupled and ready to dock. The preliminaries end. An engagement of sorts is in the offing. A sort of homecoming.
Togetherness
There needn’t be words nor elegant buckle-down rituals. We can stand, devoid of a premise - clean out of ostensible props. There needn’t even be acknowledgement if we are so inclined. Our simple proximation of being is all. When I enter the room and you are already in it. And the first three seconds pass - that window when my charged momentum of entry gives license for either of us to bolt - and neither of us do. Now shimmers the dull electricity of our pairing.
There’s the tether. We live to be together.
Detachment
Where do I start and end ? If I don’t know, how can I not merge into every concern and cause that begs of my support ? How can I not fall hard at the feet of the tall quiet man I have waited for ? I want to help but what if I drown in sacrifice ? I long to play but what if I hide in joy ? I yearn to love but what if I shrivel in need ?
I turn to the road and the road speaks up. “All attachments are but stations on this journey. Keep moving Gary. Change is uncomfortable and necessary. Life is your hoard. Growth is your shield and your sword.”
I get it whole. I set the pace. Rooted in the shifting sands of sequence.
Married to the liminal space.
