I changed my site title tonight.  It was surprisingly scary.  This blog had been “Stories or Survival” since I first started it way back in 2008.  And that was a good enough title then.  But it just doesn’t seem to work anymore.

I’m done surviving.  I spent the better part of two decades surviving.  I refused to be a victim.  I survived.  A victim sticks around to die.  A survivor claims herself and lives.

I lived.  Now it is time to thrive.

My life is perpetually on the threshold.  In between is where I am at.  I am leaving all I knew but don’t know where I am.  It seems everyday is an exciting adventure or a new lesson.  I’m on the move but I don’t know where.  The more I learn the more I have to learn.  The more I walk this strange new path the longer it stretches ahead.

Easter is a good day for rebirth and new directions.  Life and love and learning.  Technically Easter isn’t here yet at my house.  It is still Saturday for another hour in New Mexico.  A liminal, in between day.  He’s gone and He hasn’t come back yet.  That liminal space between life and death, between love and hate, between sleep and waking.  Right now it is the opening, the threshold crossing, the door-way I find so beautiful and terrifying.

I have two children.  They were both born the traditional way.  I was their threshold between not-born and breathing.  One of them tried to quit breathing once.  In my arms.  In the best hospital in the state.  There is another threshold between breathing and just a body.

Limenal spaces are terrifying.  Awe inspiring.  Life-giving.  Death-going.

I have five cats.  They wish I would leave the front door standing open so they could be perpetually in and out.  We cats are limenal creatures.

Two weeks ago I had one of my eerie, semi-prophetic dreams. Those happen sometimes. They have an entirely different feel from my more ordinary dreams. I had been hiking by myself and was nearly back to the car. A huge leopard sat on a rock watching me, watching the car. He was waiting for me to turn my back, waiting for any chance to make me lunch. I wanted a sharp rock I could throw or fight with or something. I was trying to scoop one up while walking deliberately and cautiously keeping an eye on the cat. Every single rock was round. Smooth and round. The closest I could find was slightly off round. Very slightly. I carefully circled the car from the back, keeping my face toward the cat and the car between us. I didn’t want to hurt him. He was beautiful. As I squeaked through the door he came right up to me, as scared and curious and hungry as I was. I closed the door and woke up.

Round.  Whole.  My self wanting to eat myself.  My self protecting against myself.  A huge, strong animal.  Not evil, not mean.  Just hungry and scared and curious.  Coming closer, only separated by a thin piece of steel.

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
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3 Responses to change

  1. The night is over. Christ is risen. Hallelujah! Blessed Easter!


  2. Pingback: (part 4) perfection and purpose | the liminal life of m

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