Liminal Spaces at the End of Juncture

This past week has been an exploration in incompleteness, grayness, and all the words that convey an in process transition.  Sitting in the incomplete spaces of a semester not quite ready to end, I worked hard to find grounding and solace.  By incomplete I mean there were

frayed

lingering threads still holding me to the fall semester: finals, grading, committee meetings. My routine started to fray as classes ended and the threads holding me somewhat stable unraveled as I started to look toward the start of winter break.  Losing my routine last week seemed to align with the instability of seasonal shifts and added another layer to a complex month of juncture work.  The end of autumn came, though, and we are now in early winter.  I am also ostensibly done with the semester.  The threads totally severed, as I now work to weave new threads into my daily life.  Early winter is a challenge.  Doshically (is that a word?), it reflects my constitution.  The tension between vata and kapha is in full swing.  Vibration and earth colliding.  How do I find balance between these seemingly oppositional forces? How do I use them well to support each other, rather than exacerbate them?  That is my challenge over the next month or so before winter deepens and kapha takes a deeper hold of the earth--and me.  

The past week was a series of challenges and I am always surprised how valuable intentionality can be as I head into moments that push and pull at me in uncomfortable ways.  I have to admit, it was a week of vata gone crazy.  I was vibrating and floating above the earth more often than I could find the ground beneath me.  What helped me? Remembering that it was just a moment.  It was a moment. A moment.  It was not forever. And ever. And ever.  Rather than closing my eyes or trying to burrow away from the the source of the discomfort, I held on. I remembered that I needed to keep grounding myself as best as I could. I held on to my morning routines as best as I could.  Yes, I slept badly. I tossed and turned.  My mind churned over and over like a record on the turntable.  But in the morning, I dragged myself to my morning pages. I held my mala.  I repeatedly called to akhilanda.  It did not always go well.  Many times, I couldn't get through all my pages.  Other times, I felt mindless in my calls to the goddess who is  never not broken, but also never not whole.  But I did my best.  I remembered.  I remembered intention.  Intention is everything for me right now. 

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Liminal is defined as "occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold."   Juncture is defined as "a point of time; especially one made critical by a concurrence of circumstances."  Shifting ground.  Boundaries changing.  A new threshold.  The concurrence of events that lead to shifting ground.  To boundary changes. To the discovery of a new threshold.  These events can lead to uncertain territory. They can produce fear of the unknown. 

Yet, I'm drawn to the liminal spaces even as they terrify me. I seem to be creeping up on them more and more and not with my eyes closed.  I can see myself in the moment and find patience in my fear.  It certainly doesn't mean that the fear disappears.  It is very real, visceral. I can feel my body clench and muscles tighten.  But I'm starting to understand that I am prepared. That I can move through these new spaces and that as I hit these junctures, they have much to teach me, even as I lay awake at night unable to calm my mind. I can feel something happening even as I still experience the terror of being something new, something different from what I was or what I imagined I should be.  Never not broken.  Never not whole.  

Yet awake to it all.