Thinking about what to write for this week’s post is making me realise how little my mind grasps the idea of transition.
Ten years ago I was a person, five years ago I was another. Two years ago my life was completely different and now, if I had to mark when exactly I changed over my life I wouldn’t know. Yes, there may be events that trigger your experience, but that doesn’t mean waking up one day and being a different person. Sometimes you fall again into your old ways. Sometimes you look at yourself and say: woah! Look at what I am today.
I did that. I looked at myself a while ago and said to myself “wow, now idiots in my life don’t bother me that much. Wow, now I know how to walk away from certain situations. Or how to handle certain problems”. Yes, there are things I learned that helped me, but trying to choose when all this happened would be like watching sunrise or sunset. There’s the gray light of the morning, than a little pink sprays the fields and in a blink the sun is there!
Liminality. For the Celts, it was an important concept: the turn of the season, of the months, even of days. Samhain, Beltaine, midwinter and midsummer, sunrise and sunset. Everything that is in the middle holds magic. It makes me think about Mircea Eliade’s notion of time out of time. The sacred moment when the worlds join, when the myths are reenacted, in which rituals are held.
What I have understood is that this moments hold the possibility of creation. Isn’t it nice to think that during our everyday mundane activities we can pause and aknowledge the world as the sacred place it is? That everyday there are magical moments in which we can stop, pause for a while. A couple of minutes in the morning, midday and sunset can be powerful moments of minfdulness and connection. You can center yourself, relax and be part of the cycles. The cycle of days within the cycle of months, that is itself within the cycle of the year who is part of the endless cycle of life. We are still part of this reality even if there isn’t a big festival to celebrate. Then off with the tasks of the day.
That moment in which the doing and the being unite in the great force that makes the Sun come up in the sky is still a mistery to me. You where down the curve of the horizon and now you’re here, shining. What’s your secret? How come you haven’t hidden under the mountains forever? Where have you mastered the courage, oh my Sun? Maybe even the Sun is afraid it won’t be able to go up as high as it should, or that he can’t do it. That he’s going to fail. Maybe he too feels pressured by the expectancies everyone places on it. In the end, there’s nothing much the Sun could do. He has to rise. Even when it rains, it’s there. Maybe there’s something inevitable about transitions and how much control we can have on them.