Liminality: Between

"In anthropology, liminality is the quality of ambiguity or disorientation that occurs in the middle stage of rites, when participants no longer hold their preritual status but have not yet begun the transition to the status they will hold when the rite is complete." Wikipedia

"... in the liminal space between "here" and "there." As myth, folklore, and fairy tales remind us, the space between any two things is a traditional place of enchantment: a bridge between two banks of a river, the silvery light between night and day, the elusive moment between dreaming and waking, the instant of change in shape-shifting transformation ... Terri Windling

The weather is such a keen indicator of what is, and what isn't. I woke this morning before sunrise, red rubber boots and a far too thin pair of socks on, and right away thought Ouch, my foot was protesting and achy. Stiff and cold, we my foot and my whole self made our way down the crunchy grass.

The sun is now risen, and the evidence of both frost and activity that is best done with the warmth of sun are present.

We, Pete and I, are in that between stage; still here, not quite, but not there yet, either. Our communications with people who care about our journey are the bread crumbs and markers dropped as we make our way. Things like these:

"I hope you know that I will help in whatever way I can. You and Pete are two of my precious, rare beings that I treasure."

Another friend reminds me of the multiplicity of Goats. " Goats eat blackberry bushes like caviar and love playing mountain on old boxes.. reality colored with whimsy."

A friend is asking her friends for ideas.
"how close/far from the city, what kind of neighbors they want, what kind of land they seek to be near. Are they self-contained, or do they need house access? Do they have crafts they continue to practice that might need additional space?"

What great questions, some of which we had not thought of ourselves. That's the thing about opening yourself up to being vulnerable. Risky business. There's the chance you get a piece of the magic of an enchanted next. Or, if your enemies attempt to use you for target practice? Well, there's always the Star Wars Last Jedi approach (which I personally loved) or/and the Wise Woman Tradition that as Susun Weed writes in Healing Wise is a combination of Jedi master and Herbal Green Witchery (which I REALLY love!).:

" Problems are not cured; they are not enemies to be eliminated.

In the Wise Woman tradition, we do not love our enemies. We make them our allies. In the Wise Woman tradition, we eliminate our enemies. We eliminate them by accepting all their gifts, by feasting on the nourishment they offer. In the Wise Woman tradition, we gain cooperation from our enemies by respecting their unique reality. They become our supporters. In the Wise Woman tradition we honor and cherish our enemies as benefactors of our health/wholeness/holiness; for our enemies force us, as few others will, to be strong and wise."

Another friend left a message on my long-standing 808 cellphone, the phone number that I've had since 2001 when I leapt into the world of new technology. That old flip top phone still carries the phone numbers of dearly loved ancestors who no longer need cellphones to leave me messages; they show up in dreams. Liminal space. I called her back and we chatted sharing those personal sagas of moving and not knowing where the next is yet. We share a common lineage with MCS and in so many ways the Wise Woman tradition approach to problems, cures, and feasting on the nourishment 'enemies' offer has made all the difference when the between space gets the spookiest. When is that? For me, it's the space where I wall myself off from all others and leave no room for discerning the benefactor factor.

Benefactor factor? Yeah, like our chat with friends last week. Pete and I arrived with gifts and gratitude for supportive conversation. Most of the two hours spent that morning was filled with Pete or me doing all the talking. Our friends listened. Asked few, but perceptive questions. And only in the final two minutes did they offer us an unexpected surprise. So surprising in fact, we won't yet reveal the offer for it simmers as magic, real magic, needs Mystery to bless the birthing.

In the meantime, a second pot of oats and nettles is feeding us. Pete plays games of Solitaire seated on the throw rug in the vardo with a warm bowl of porridge in his lap. A jar of almond butter sent to him from Minnesota will top his cereal. I'm writing with the sunshine brightening up the old sheet of a curtain in between spoonfuls of warmth with chunks of pears as sweet treats.

The element of collaboration is so much a part of the benefactor factor. In the years since we began living from the golden wagon of a vardo, we have had to let go off attitudes or experiences that wall us off from collaboration. Learning what the action, and the process of respectful give and take means beyond the theories ... that takes practice.

Like any practice it starts by showing up. Again and again. Melt down? Yes, they happen, too. Between practice sessions, and sometimes as the session.

Four examples of persisting and creatively expressing are inspiring me today. I leave this post with the last two examples. The first two are already part of this whole ramble (Terri Windling's post from Myth & Moor began this post; and Susun Weed, keeper of the Wise Woman Tradition informs my approach to wholeness/health with her approach with enemies).

The Lost Words, Book of Spells.  

 

We have the beautiful book The Lost Words, thanks to our local Sno-Isle Library System. And above, that's Pete reading and thumbing through the pages as we enjoyed an evening in the shared kitchen with our son, Christopher Kawika. (Sorry for the clipped ending to Pete's description. He was saying, "It (Raven) wasn't very high.")

The magic and the artistry of collaboration involved in the making of that book unfolded more, and more as I linked to this post by artist, writer, magic-maker Jackie Morris. Do follow the link to Jackie Morris's blog website. It will do something to you, I promise.

And last but so serendipitous is this connection with a farm, and a place near Sebastapol, CA. Sebastapol where in the fall of 2007, Pete and I arrived in our dear 'Scout' the Subaru after a pioneering road trip from Anacortes. I had discovered a person who was teaching a workshop (the first of his offerings it turns out) for people interested in building their own tiny house. I imagined a small, curved roof of a home to learn how to live with a mysterious illness.

Twelve years later, while I sit to write from another shared space where definitions and imagined connections tease me from a too-small or ill-equipped story, I found Sierra Seeds. The "Indigenous Seed Sovereignty" mission is described on the Sierra Seeds' website with these thoughts:

“Our foods are a part of our culture and way of life…Our seeds contain histories of our people and contain the security of future generations. In this generation we will ensure that our fish, root crops, buffalo, forests and other foods are retained for the generations yet to come. Food is a human right not to be purchased, or simply delivered in sacks and commodities, but to be grown and harvested in our communities and traditional territories.”

 All across Turtle Island (North America) we are seeing a great resurgence of tribes building healthy and resilient food systems as a cornerstone to cultural and ecological renewal programs, as well as a means to reclaim indigenous economies and true economic and political sovereignty. If a community is to be truly sovereign and free from colonizing forces, they must be able to feed and nourish themselves with culturally appropriate foods. Food and seed sovereignty is the right of peoples to healthy and culturally appropriate food produced through ecologically sound and sustainable methods, and their right to define their own food and agriculture systems. This is the true foundation for the healing from the violent disruption of culture and communities due to colonization and globalization. Removed from their lands and forced to assimilate into Western culture, many native people no longer live in their traditional territories nor do they eat their traditional foods. Many processed and introduced foods have become the staple, and nutritional-related diseases such as Type II diabetes and heart disease have become epidemics.

Through educational Indigenous Seed Keeper workshops, with an emphasis on traditional methods of seed stewardship, restoring traditional ecological knowledge and indigenous foodways, and finding creative and new ways of bringing these exquisite indigenous foods back into our daily diets, we are honoring that food is truly our best medicine.

The food sovereignty movement is the most innovative approach to restoration of culture and the long term goal of food security."

And the hands-on workshop I imagine being part of at Sierra Seeds? Is here.  We may not make this February 2, 2019 gathering, but some day! Let the collaborations be in our life. "We build a spirit of being fed."

Somethings ripen as the morning grows toward noon. My bowl of oats and nettles is empty, nourished am I with the simple wild foods that we afford easily and cook with kind regard. The traffic is heavy with cars and trucks, and all the seemingly disconnected bits of here and there make their way.

The seed of indigenous knowing within me has many memories. I wish for their lessons and am grateful to be awake to the clues and equally thankful for the odd ways messages make their way to me. Oh Goddess, soften me enough to be receptive to changes, and strong enough to weather and accept the process. Humor will help a lot.

A coyote-like man with Gemini quirkiness happened into my dreams, and the scheme of my life changed once upon a time. We could, neither of us, never have imagined the joy, the luck, the unexpected twists we'd take in our life together.

And for you, is the liminal space familiar territory? We'd love to hear about it.