The Liminal Life
Do you know what we might call winter’s take on the dog days of summer? I’d love to find out, because I have a hunch we’re in the midst of it right now. The snow weighs heavy on my restless spirit and the cold numbs the blood through even the cushiest of clothing layers, leaving me to question the very presence of my own physicality. The holidays are over, spring is not yet here, and really what is one to do but muddle through the cold misery?
In my fast forward mind, I struggle to make the best of these days between snow fall and the ground thaw, but I am beginning to accept if not quite embrace them. After all, they’re similar to pre-dawn mornings, arising as the birds begin their joyful daybreak hymns just to watch the bright white moon fade away into an endless blue sky. Or meandering down a woodland trail, not quite at one with the wild yet surely miles away from modern society. I crave those fleeting moments in which I am here nor there, but I am simply alive. And up until recently, I associated them almost exclusively with the warmer months.
Now I’m finding that it is harder to trek through the forest, or awake in front of a wide open window, but those sensations of liminality are not completely lost. I sniffed them out, and ended up with my nose buried in a favorite nature-centered book. Later, I reveled in the company of a familiar herd of horses (excuse my soul because it is about to let out a jubilant “hooray”). Each time, walking the precarious rope between pure immersion into the respective worlds and the structure of modern human society. And miraculously, despite the ice-crusted ground and biting temperatures, I felt just like me again.
Just like a jet-setter needs to globe trot and an adrenaline junkie needs to skydive, I need to roam the line that separates modern girls from the wild world. For some, liminality is a temporary layover in life, but for me, forever navigating the edge between here and there is right where I want to be.