Liminal Living
This way of embodiment is often called Walking Between the Worlds. Entirely receptive in its essence, living a liminal life requires openness to what is and, more importantly, to what is possible in every moment. Actions follow that lead.
Do I walk around thinking, “What is possible at this moment?” every moment? Of course not. I don’t think much, truth be told. By that, I mean that my mind is not crowded and overwhelmed by thinking, all or even most of the time. Mind is quiet and receptive. She is a useful tool for living this life, burns the midnight oil when needed, but has no place in steering….unless I am behind the wheel of a vehicle.
Blessed are the Borderlands ~
I once read a book called Bordertown, written as a fantasy collection of short stories about a mythical land that lay between the human world and Elvendom. All various issues prevailed, of course. Both ‘human’ and ‘elven’ vices were acted out quite actively. My favorite story was called Demon. A story of magic, transformation and honor, its protagonist was a young girl, a martial artist who had studied for some years but considered herself to be a lowly student, still. In karate, we call that a brown belt. {All the power and none of the acknowledgment or finesse.}
The girl was cornered on her way home from the dojo one night, by a gang of elven thugs who forced her to drink a potion that would turn her into a demon they could control. Fun for them, or so they thought. They would play a tune on a special flute that she would then ‘dance to’ by shapeshifting into a demon that would attack whoever or whatever the gang chose.
The girl woke up on the first morning with a splitting headache, then heard through the local grapevine of a youth who had been mauled and killed the night before. She had flashback memories of the event, though the perpetrator was unclear. A few mornings later, when she found blood on the clothes she had worn the night before, she went to her Sensei. Horrified, she told him the whole story.
Being familiar with Asian magic, the Sensei took her to see a Koto instructor who was a friend of his. A magical being herself, she told the girl, “We all have demons. We must tame them.” Then, she performed a particularly difficult piece of music as though it were nothing. “My demon plays koto!” she exclaimed with a grin.
The Sensei grabbed the young girl by the hand and rushed her to his dojo. The day was waning, and he did not want her to go through another night like the ones she had been experiencing. The Sensei said one thing to his student. “We train.” They began to perform a cycle of 100 katas, This practice consists of 100 repetitions of a martial form. Each repetition requires a slightly different focus. One might be timing, another precision, another muscular strength, and so on. The idea was to literally martial the demon energy into specific patterns, as a way of controlling it.
That night, when the elven gang showed up with their flute, the young girl was ready. She shapeshifted into the demon with its fangs, claws, and horns, and commenced an inner struggle. After a few minutes, her demon form stepped out into the first moves of the kata she and her sensei had been practicing. She drove herself through the form, and, finally, the gang dispersed, having lost their control over her. { Thanks and apologies to author Midori Snyder, whose story I have just paraphrased…}
For me, other than the delight of its martial aspects, {I was training for my first black belt at that time} the point of the story was that even if we are badly wired, that wiring can be transformed with practice. Any wiring can be transformed, with practice and with surrender. Like the protagonist, my ‘demon’ does kata. I let my Spirit dance, and magic happens.
Traveling without moving ~ Lighting Beacons
The most intricate katas are of the mind. We meditate, we practice mindfulness, we move. We create pathways through dreaming that will hold us through our life journey. We use the tool of the mind to help us create sacred space while surrendering that function to the Source within.
One little hobbit lit the string of beacons that ignited a nation. Perhaps our purposes are not so grandiose, but they have an effect all the same. Vast numbers of ignited hearts accomplish what is very, very possible.
How large the flame in any one of those hearts, perhaps matters not. What begins as a flicker can be fanned as needed.
What lights you up? Luminosity beckons us into a liminal way of Being.
