Friday, July 9, 2010

Oddly Instructive...

I had a dream last night that I was in a garden with some of my girl friends. We all sat around a table eating little somethings and drinking punch. At one point we all gathered around one of the girls as she held up a copy of her newly published novel next to a copy of her first. We were all a-twitter, and I, of course, was completely awestruck. "How do you do it?" I asked during a momentary lull in conversation. I--with my hundreds of unfinished pages and useless manuscripts--I needed to know. She leaned back, resting her hands sagely on her pregnant belly, and said, "In order to be a good writer, you have to write about what you know. Research. Research. Research."

And then my phone rang and I woke up. But I woke up oddly invigorated...like I had this renewed desire to experience EVERYTHING.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Cusp


-noun
7. a point that marks the beginning of a change.


For the next seventeen minutes, it's still morning. I can take the time to write.

I am standing on the brink with my arms spread and my eyes wide open. And I'm tipping forward, but not falling. Not yet. I don't feel strange; I don't feel scared. I feel...nothing. Because "nothing" is what I am. I am practically a wife, but I'm not. I'm not in my old apartment, but I am. I am almost so many things that I am not. I don't know how to be these days. I don't know what role to play, or which me to be. Am I uncomfortable? A little bit. But it is only the natural discomfort that comes from being stuck in a liminal space. I am liminal.

That was the catchword in the English Department for many years: Every work of literature was all about "liminality," and I grew to dislike the word. But I find now that it is all I've got. Knowing about it is the only thing that keeps me sane, because liminality--or limbo--by my definition, is not a destination. Thank goodness. It's a passage.

There are lots of things I want to write about these days, but I find that most of them are actually probably too personal. There are things I want to--I need to--say and do. But I cannot. I'm still liminal. I'm still pending. I am in the throes of these desperate last few days before the dam breaks. Before the floodgates opens. Before I begin the last GREAT adventure of the rest of my life. There will be other great adventures. Of course. But I have a feeling they will all be tied inextricably to this one.

It is an immense feeling to love and to be loved.

hoop-de-do