Threshold

when standing still is doing something, too

I took this photo several years ago. I have very mixed feelings about fireworks. Environmental mess, they scare people and animals. I’d ban them if I could. But they’re also a marvel.

On New Year’s Eve we were supposed to watch fireworks with friends. Their home has a gorgeous, unobstructed view. I wanted to join them, but I was wiped out. I thought: ok, this happens once a year. Maybe I should buck up. Maybe I’ll be glad I did.

But I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep and not drag my poor shuffling zombie butt to a social gathering just because I thought I should.

So I called it. (My husband was fine with going or not going.)

We went to bed early.

My body temperature is cooler than average. My husband thinks it’s unnatural. He gives off heat. Like the wavy lines over a charcoal grill—heat like that. It’s palpable.

He’s usually much too warm for me to sleep near him, but when I’m too cold, it’s a boon. He’s like a space heater. When we lay like spoons, we call it waffling. He’s the waffle iron. I am the waffle.

Because I was chilly that night, I said: Waffle me! And he did. I scooted back against him and he wrapped himself around me like a warm blanket. I was asleep within minutes.

It was 10 o’clock.

Around midnight, I heard the explosive popping of fireworks outside. Ordinarily, that would keep me up, but I rolled over went back to sleep. Exhaustion for the win.

The next morning, I woke up feeling rested for the first time in several days. I needed it. No regrets.

And now, it’s a new year.

I haven’t made any resolutions. Sometimes I do. But I am in a transitional mood. Waiting for something to bloom.

I stumbled upon a few essays explaining that in Chinese astrology we’re at the end of a 9 year cycle. A liminal space. (I love that word.) A threshold.

I think something new is always being born. Even when our days and routines look much the same.

I am drifting. My usual desire for closure has eased.

I watched most of a movie a couple of days ago and still haven’t finished it.

I owe people who are dear to me emails.

I have an art submission deadline coming up (January 15th) and I’ve done nothing about it.

I feel as if I’m sleepwalking, but I think it’s something else. Something better.

I attended a class in October with Diana Christinson called: One Wild and Precious Life. Diana walked around the room holding an imaginary compass, modeling the act of getting one’s bearings. As she turned, the needle was spinning. She asked: How do you get a compass to work? One clever student replied: You stand still.

You stand still.

Diana said: Locate yourself. Where are you? Where do you want to be?

Simple questions. Huge implications.

Where am I? Here.

Where do I want to be? Also here.

It won’t stay this way. It never does. But for now, it feels perfectly right.