The In Between

I come back to ground, slowly after being in the air for a while. I land softly, so much so that I am barely aware of the reconnection of feet to earth. My eyes open. There was a while there when I was floating, unable to feel what was real and solid and what was a fabric made of imagined things. Vestigial dreams suspended in the threads woven from stories half told.

I come back to earth now. And I accept what is and choose to put little thought into what might or might not be. Things that seem opaque,  part or future, can remain so, and are not going to come into clarity by the simple force of my gaze. Any disasters have been of my own making, sewn into my skin by a constant desire to know the unknowable, to see storylines that are not mine to see. This is the source of whatever deep sadness resides in me, in us, this need for things to be different from what they are. Trying to stretch too far outside of ourselves. We created this reality, for whatever reason, perhaps to solve it and come more fully into the light.

And with that thought I remember that it is the first questions we ask that are the most important.
Back then, I wondered aloud whether I was just a catalyst. I suspected that I was, or something like it; a wake up call, a beautiful interruption to an empty sleep. For a while we lived in the magical in between, reveling in the soft light that lingers after dreams. Before our minds returned to this mortal place, to pick up the burdens we had chosen to carry in this lifetime.

At this time in history the truth is being revealed that we are just part of a process, and an uncomfortable wedge is being inserted into our willful slumber.  Amidst this turmoil there is a forceful upwelling of emotional discord, we are waking up and coming to the realization that life is not meant to run us over. We are not meant to drive this machine, but neither are we meant to get dragged behind it like tins cans behind the newly wed.

Our light-handed purpose; to fall asleep and wake back up again, over and over, in order to better understand and hold on to that middling place between dream and wakefulness. This is where the divine meets the human, where we are meant to linger in those moments when we are barely awake, remembering. We all know it, whether we choose to admit it or not. Where we understand that there are two worlds; this earth with it's hard edges and the dreamscape which lies shimmering beyond our touch. Neither less real than the other. To walk the in between is our task, to hold on without grasping, to stay put without letting our feet plant too deeply, so we can see the intermingling of worlds. All this so we can sink into the ground that birthed us, fall to pieces, and begin again.