The unbearable lightness of in-betweening
I’m very uncomfortable in the spaces between.
I’m very uncomfortable in the spaces between. The “in-betweens” if you will. I do well with the peaks and even the valleys. But those dull moments, where not a lot is happening? Where things feel plateaued? Those are probably the most uncomfortable for me.
This is ironic considering that the middle path–contentment and equanimity–is the goal of most spiritual practices.
I hate it.
I feel like a fraud.
My entire nervous system is poised for an attack, happily crafting one if it does not exist.
Give me challenge and chaos and crisis and I am suddenly the calmest I have ever been. I go into overdrive and get-it-done mode and I find an incredible peace there.
I don’t love the low moments either, but at least I know what to do. I sleep. Or I cry.
But that liminal space between the two points? Where I am not happy, nor sad, nor tired or wired.
I have no clue what to do with myself.
I fidget and I shift in my seat. I perpetually refresh my computer, hoping and waiting for some call to action or crisis. I am like a nosy neighbor watching my own nervous system. In meditation, it feels like I’m hiding behind the window curtain ready to pounce when necessary, but no threats appear. It’s just a desolate street and no one is around.
Maybe that’s the part that is the hardest? There can be a loneliness to liminality. You’re not really a part of when you’re toggling between two points. You’re neither here, nor there and therefore, you’re not really anywhere.
In chaos, I am Super Sarah. I’m getting it done, I’m saving the day. I am important and necessary. You need me.
In calm, I am just a soul existing.
My armor and my badge-adorned uniform lay neatly folded beside me, while I sit on the edge of the bed naked, uncertain what to do next.
Exposed.
The irony is that I will be called to action very soon. I always am. And then I will wish I had the space and peace to just exist here quietly without expectation. I will wish that I could have just trusted in the liminal space of the in-between, so that I enjoyed it rather than future-tripping.
Maybe instead of standing at the doorway with my bags packed, waiting for my next adventure, I will just sit here a while instead.