Manifesting… identity loss through the liminal

This summer has been a time of input. It wasn’t my over-arching intention, but on the other side now, that’s what happened.

Beginning with my months-long preparation for a week’s visit to my immediate family on Vancouver Island, and ending with not one, but three trips to Sechelt to complete the first session in Heather Plett’s Holding Space foundation program.

While visiting Sechelt for the program, my car was hit while parked and needed a repair in Sechelt. The entire process went very smoothly, I was immediately given a rental car, then required to travel to Sechelt the next week or so to pick-up a courtesy car (brand new car) from the repair shop. A week or two after that, my car was ready and I had to pick it up in Sechelt. Therefore, instead of a trip to Sechelt and a week of classes in a lovely guest house and home again; it followed with two more visits on the ferry over to Sechelt into mid-October to pick up my (perfectly fixed) car.

As I soldiered through these required and unexpected (and to me, not insignificant) trips, all of my reserved energy was quickly zapped and had left me mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted.

It’s already nearing the end of November and I’m only now seeing the bottom of my laundry basket for the first time since late August. The vacuum cleaner is calling from the corner of my family-room/ studio space, seeking attention if only for a small trip to the front door and back. I’ve still not reclaimed the kitchen, managing yes, but not cooking meals. Instead, I’m relying on frozen things and bits of fruits and veg, here and there.

My tolerance for chaos and disorganization is, gratefully, very high. Harkening back only a few years and my life before that, and I would have been in a panic to be carrying on as I do these days. My attitude towards dust and dirt, lack, ambiguity and not knowing, and having to go with the flow has been attuned. 

I’m very grateful to know (from my Holding Space course) that I live in the liminal space, in cocoon, where wisdom of my DNA is transforming me. I have faith that all will be well, and I am attuned to this while I persevere with my new life, my life of managing between the lines, amongst the chaos, seemingly disorganized and not knowing what will happen in the future. 

I trust that my efforts will manifest my new life, and my new life will take on purpose and meaning. I trust my decisions to challenge my cognition by doing things that make me happy, such as writing in my journal every day, writing and sharing my stories, making connections through art and in reclaiming my needlework skills. 

I trust Love will endure when I reach out to meet and reconnect with old friends — even if my communication seems odd or off-putting in some way. I trust that any space in time or distance between me and others, or me and my desires, are all perfect.. and elegant.

I trust in the liminal space, my own; and.. I trust in the liminal space in which others find themselves.

With Love. ❤️ 

Image: the autumn leaves at Stanley park (those are my boots).. ❤️