Tender Transitions
day one, Sunday
Hello friends,
Today you’re receiving this email from The Poetry Corner, a new section of The Liminality Journal! From now on, every time you get an email from me that has to do with poetry, whether it’s a series, daily writing prompts, or a poem I want to share with you, it will go into The Poetry Corner, where you can find former poetry series and posts as well.
I hope this helps us keep track of things a little better, and makes The Liminality Journal even easier to navigate as we build community together.
Now, onto this sacred, beautiful next week we’ve got together—I really need this. Do you?
The exciting energy of Autumn is my favorite, but with it comes this reminder to myself, to my body and mind, that I need to slow down and set a good pace for my life. I’m the kind of person who goes from positive to negative stress pretty quickly: one minute I’m typing emails and writing to you, the next I’m light-headed, flooded with too much adrenaline, needing to get away from the phone, the computer, and back into my body.
So, Tender Transitions is about that, but it’s also about showing up to whatever other transitions are happening in and around us:
maybe you’re transitioning from one line of work to another
maybe you're in some liminal space spiritually
maybe you’re just excited to watch the seasons of Mother Earth change
maybe you have a lot of questions right now
maybe you’re recognizing how scared you are of change
maybe you just want to hold space and dig deeper into your own story
I’m here for all of it. So for the next week, we will hold this space together, with words, with poetry.
I encourage you to make it a spiritual practice in whatever way that works for you—write from the same chair, use the same journal and pen, listen to a certain kind of music and light your favorite candle. However you show up, do it with intention, because that’s the kind of stuff that keeps us grounded when things feel hazy, shaky, uncomfortable.
Today’s word is embrace.
Take a second and let that work sink in. Let it bring its coziness and care toward you, let it gather you up and hold you.
Embrace.
Embrace
I’ve learned through the years that an embrace can’t always be of the physical sort, but sometimes shows up in ways we least expect and most need. Sometimes an embrace is a text message that comes through when we were doubting it all. Sometimes an embrace is a moment of clarity that we find while standing near a trout stream. Sometime an embrace is seeing a television character that looks like our people. Sometimes an embrace is a moment of eye contact that acknowledges true kinship. And today, right now, an embrace is me, with my body, holding her, letting words pulse through her veins, words that I call beloved, cherished and good, as she tries to express who she was yesterday and who she hopes to be every moment after this one--held.
Kaitlin, I was quite moved by the pictures, and then along came your poem. Love all the ways we can embrace and be embraced. Here is my short reflection/poem...
EMBRACE
Sweet breezes, caress my heart
tender nudges, reminding me
of the song within my soul
that longs to be sung.
Thank you for this invitation, Kaitlin.
Here's a go:
I am trying to keep
loving this world:
marigold, zinnia,
city breeze and
harvest dust gritty
on my eyes.
The hops vines entangle
themselves and each
other, embrace themselves,
and I keep wondering
what it feels like in my
achy body to love and
know I am loved back
just as strong--in a world
cracking apart some days
with its own collapse.
And also:
my son fell asleep last
night, beside me, for the
first time in years, and
his breath was steady
on my neck. His feet
were warm against my leg.
My sore bones sank
into something like quiet.
A dry leaf skidded beyond
the window in the breeze.