Dawn and Twilight, the two times of day that embrace the light and the dark simultaneously, a concept I’ve been considering a lot lately. It is hard to strive for joy when you feel your life is consumed by grief or despair. To consider inhabiting the space between two opposite states, joy/sorrow, laughter/tears, happiness/grief, security/fear, is like trying to take up residence in the in-between. Embracing both sides, leaning into opposite emotions, remembering that we have capacity to feel two very different things at the same time. Honoring that where there are cracks, there are opportunities for light to shine in, brighten dark corners, illuminate new paths, awaken parts of ourselves that may have laid dormant, waiting for a call to action.
We live in a society where joy and abundance, grace and gratitude, happiness and success are the keystones to strive for. The “more more more” mentality seems like an apt descriptor. If I just have more of _____________ (fill in the blank), I’ll be happy, or free, or healed or content. We are inundated with “cures” or “quizzes” or “fixes”; all in service to ‘more more more’. The more we consume the more broken we feel, the more we partake the more sick we feel, the more we obsess the more we feel lack. It’s a perfect loop which begets a never-ending cycle.
What I am striving for is truly feeling into my emotions rather than trying to mask uncomfortable feelings. This is a tragically difficult thing to do and often requires becoming a puddle, but water is reflective by nature. This morning I sat in my car and cried. Sobbed actually, with my head bowed and hands cupped over my face, gasps of breath between waves of tears that soaked my sleeves. I had a choice: allow myself a few moments to become a puddle OR suppress the feelings and risk they would erupt during an inopportune time or worse yet, that the feelings would nestle into my tissues and begin to create dis-ease.
When I feel this internal ‘call to action’, when I’m navigating the in between of what’s familiar with the uncharted path forward, I try to feel into all the dark corners, look for cracks in the foundation, shine a light and observe. I employ several practical tools for internal overhaul the most important of which is my voice. Verbalizing what I’m feeling can look like talking with a trusted friend, talking to myself out loud, journaling or letter writing to a future self who is already living in a different timeline. I feel compelled to excavate all the ways it feels inhabiting my physical body and mental space. Other times I might scream it out with primal conviction, cry it out, shake it out, use tapping or movement to shift my state of feeling. These methods act as a proverbial flashlight, and often illuminate a path forward or at a bare minimum offer a temporary reprieve or release.
My human body and experiences are uniquely mine but the things I yearn to feel, I have heard reflected in many other humans I’ve talked to. Many of us desire to feel a sense of belonging, love, purpose and yearn to inhabit as many happy feelings as possible. Liminal space can be uncomfortable but dawn and twilight eventually give way to a sunrise or a moonrise. Either way, I find hope.
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