Like I said: light and shadow.
And last week, the space in between the slow transitions. The easy, relaxed, unrushed way in which the morning light shifts across that one hour I spend in bed, after I have woken up. Just watching, soaking, toasting. Sometimes with curtains thrown open, sometimes through the balmy, diffused effect of the grain in the fabric that remains shut.
As a former person of extremes, always existing in the poles — this or that, one must decide! good or bad, pick a side! lef tor right, what must I choose! — it has been a steady unlearning, relinquishing of control, of identities associated with the poles and embracing the uncertainty, unsteadiness and fluidity that the “in between” space offers.
It is at once liberating, because it is in essence a thoroughly unbound state to be in; and also unnerving because there’s nowhere ot hold on to, and everything becomes excrutiatingly slow. I identify this (and imagine) it is what Jung refers to as the “third space”. Or what happens when we feel safe to let go of the shores and swim the great unknowns of our lives. The opportunity to honour the journey from what once was and what is yet to be. Which anyone who has done any work in self reflection will know is not as easy as turning a switch. One doesn’t simply transition from one state to the next. There is a vast in-between — that offers the chance to push boundaries in our own time, to unlearn old ways of being, and trudge slowly into newer ones. the same space that is ripe and fertile to sow seeds of change will also challenge the old ways, excrutiatingly, luring you back into the past. A constant push and pull that I have after many years of trying to game, effort, fight, fix and work at, have realised requires only to be witnessed. I am not a machine, and no two days are the same. One day being nothing like the next is not an indication of having “moved ahead” or not. Nothing have beaten this fact home than my attempts to find the light. My flirtation with swimming — on my back, limbs splayed, floating in a cool blue pool, eyes squinched from facing the glare of the summer sun — in liminality and letting it take me where it must.