liminal spaces
March 11, 2024
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I'm banking on this coffee to get me there. It's too hot to drink, let alone sip. Maybe I'll take a tiny pause here and do a little coffee meditation — like we did at that tea ceremony back in January.
Perhaps a little sniff, stare and trip might help. Let’s see. BRB. -
Dad always said know your audience, and don’t lose them. So this is the boring shit that gets cut.
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At the same time, in regards to these MPs, the audience is me. I've decided to give others — the world — a sneak peek into my life through these excerpts.
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It feels good to share. And I really don't care if they're read by many or felt by none. The point is to set the words free, letting them be whatever they are.
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Perhaps the thread sewing surrealism along the skirt of reality is creating a design in color that was once in color. It faded to a grayer version of itself from time-wear and forgetfulness in the memory bank. Now it’s taking on a new light and life through nostalgic exposure.
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Maybe it just is resourceful. Knowing I’m using my brain, body, energy, creativity (inclusive of pen and notebook) to create these words, and would feel wasteful to not do something about them — especially if that doing something might help someone else.
Help them see they can set their life free, too. That they're able and capable of morphing whatever situation they might be in to make it better. -
Yeah, I know sometimes we're just in shit. And morphing it only makes the shit move. It's still there. And in that case, I'd say let yourself give the shit its space — grace, even. Then allow yourself to come to terms in terms of feeling it all and out. Then flush that shit down and move on!
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Life can always get better. I know that sounds very optimistic of me, but it's the damn truth. We make of it what we will.
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Life for me is going pretty well at the moment. At the same time, like I wrote in one of my most recent poems, “you can't have it all, all of the time." And right now, although I’ve found some things, I'm feeling a bit lost.
I know I'll find my way once I get into the rhythm again, but this limbo in between one life and another feels forlorn. -
Perhaps this limbo is this liminal space he was speaking of, and I've since further read about.
For the fact that this space in between here and there is neither just that: here nor there. It is surreal in that I'm here, but still there. My body is literally writing pages, drinking coffee here. My heart is pumping here. My spirit, though, that free bird full of love and light, that's there.
And in this here/now, I'm also there, too. I'm with him with them. Those mountains. -
He brought me back yesterday to our happy place on that misty mountain full of mystery, yet so full of wisdom, more than I'll ever know.
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That's why I trust mountain and let mountain do her thang. She knows me more than that city building block over there.
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He likes to explore abandoned places. He's into this eeriness of emptiness that’s also so full of once-was energy and could be stories — the possibilities of then and now.
I, too, am curious about energies, could bes and the surreal spaces between places.