on the threshold

most of us take doors for granted. we pass through doorways tens of times each day, without reflection. the door is, however, a powerful feature of human mentality and life-practice. it controls access, provides a sense of security and privacy, and marks the boundary between differentiated spaces. the doorway is also the architectural element allowing passage from one space to the next. crossing the threshold means abandoning one space and entering another, a bodily practice recognized both in ritual and language as a transition between social roles or situations. doors and thresholds are thus closely linked with rites de passage, the word "liminality" itself stemming from Latin limen, "threshold." this does not imply that each and every crossing of a threshold constitutes a liminal ritual, but rather that passing through a doorway is an embodied, everyday experience prompting numerous social and metaphorical implications.

--marianne hem eriksen, university of oslo

in architecture, society, and ritual in viking age scandinavia

doors, dwellings, and domestic space

this week of waiting for the results of the election has me, once again, thinking about liminal space. we're (hopefully) on the threshold of something new - a return to normalcy (if that's possible) after the utter insanity of the trump years. and i'm looking forward to stepping through that door. 

but i fear that the door won't completely shut on these years because the fact is that there are a significant amount of people who actually agreed with the way he was running things and they voted for him a second time. they're apparently totally ok with the 97 million cases of corona and 235,000 deaths. they're ok with kids in cages and more than 500 children who can't be reunited with their parents due to the incompetence and cruelty of the trump administration. they're ok with a president who grabs women by the pussy. and who has spent $142,000,000 in taxpayer money golfing. and they're ok with leaving the paris climate accord and the iran nuclear agreement. and they're ok with the more than 20,000 lies. and the self-dealing and the nepotism. and the cozying up to dictators. and the humiliation on the world stage. and did i mention the lies? and the narcissism and the petulance and the twitter. there's just. so. much. i'm exhausted from it. and embarrassed by it. and tired of the way it's weakened my very foundation and made me ashamed to be american.

and i'm at my wits' end - with relatives and friends who support the monster. and it feels like some doors may need to close there. but on the other hand, that doesn't necessarily seem like the answer either. but they don't get a pass. they have to own what their choice means - that women lose the freedom to choose over their own bodies, and good friends who are legally married may have those marriages nullified by the conservative supreme court justices trump and his cronies in the senate rushed through. that people will lose their health insurance. that they don't mind children being put in cages. children in cage. just think about that. it's ok because your stocks did well? really?

but back to doors and thresholds. i think we are really standing on a threshold here. we just faced a choice between empathy and caring for our fellow humans and more division and further erosion of democratic ideals. and only by the slimmest of margins does it appear that we chose our fellow humans. what does that say? in this moment, while the whole world balances on the precipice with a global pandemic, that the choice wasn't clearer than that is astonishing. 

i hope we stride confidently through the door with our hearts open. i'll admit mine is pretty closed right now to those who have supported the spray-tanned narcissist and it will take a bit of work on my part to open it a little bit. and right now, i don't really know how that's going to happen.

fog rolls in

i have the weirdest sense that i do not know how i feel. after two and a half weeks of acute nerve pain, is it getting better? somehow, this morning, i just don't know. it's like i lost my ability to sense myself. it still hurts in my leg, but is it hurting less? can i walk around for a little longer? stand for a little longer in the shower? maybe, but i'm not sure. am i just used to the pain? are my meds helping? do i feel like myself? what does myself feel like? i don't know if it's a medicine-induced fog or if i've simply lost any ability i had to be in touch with myself and my own body. i feel apart. like i'm looking at myself from a distance and i'm not wearing my glasses...

empty chairs and empty tables

do rooms retain memories of the things they've seen? could you hear what they've heard if you just listened carefully enough? do they feel sorrow? pride? anger? neglect? do they miss the voices? do they hear them at all? or are they just there in all of their beingness. or are they nothing? empty. space. waiting. liminal.

a change of seasons

it seems somehow both sorrowful and fitting to attend a funeral here in the liminal space of almost-spring. spring is only just starting to happen, but there is still evidence everywhere of last season. spring hangs in the liminal space between, waiting to fully burst forth, but being chased back by winds that are still a bit too cold and the rattle of last year's dried leaves.

it seems especially sad to die right on the verge of spring, to not see the lambs frolic in the green fields, to not see the magnolia unfold its delicate blooms, to only have seen the earliest snowdrops and bluebells, but to miss out on the tulips and the daffodils. but seasons come and seasons go and life has its seasons as well.

so to leave the here and now at this time and go to whatever might be next is perhaps fitting. the beautiful flowers of yesteryear making way for the new, fresh buds and blooms of tomorrow. a life well lived moving to the next level, leaving behind sorrow for those who are left here in the liminal space. but to have lived well and been kind and good-hearted and thoughtful to those who miss her now. to leave behind the pain of a cruel illness and move into the rebirth of green, the sunlight of a flower-strewn spring, seems somehow the best ending one can hope for. to have loved and been loved, to have laughed, to shed tears and have tears shed for you, to leave something behind, a mark on the world--in the form of children and grandchildren and a home that really feels like home...it's what we're all striving for in our own way. it's an achievement of the highest order.

and although the sun set on a life well-lived today, the sorrow is all ours, those left behind, who will miss her laughter, her kindness, her positive spirit, staying up late drinking one more glass of red wine, fresh soft-boiled eggs from her hens for breakfast, her fantastic dinners, those little fjord shrimp that sabin, at age 3, trotted back into the kitchen again and again, saying "mere, mere" until magda laughed with delight at how much such a little girl could eat. we're left with the good memories and an empty spot in our lives.

here at the change of seasons, a reminder that life is as cyclical and predictable as they are, even in their unpredictability.

at the change of seasons

at these transitional points of year, as summer turns to autumn and autumn fades towards winter, i always get introspective. last year, that introspection led me to change jobs in order to have more time for the things that matter. now, i find myself reflecting on what i've done with that time i gave myself. maybe it's because i felt like i haven't been utilizing it well for the past week. i have a bunch (seven, to be exact) of different articles in progress and feel more or less stuck on all of them.  it's been great to be working mostly at home for almost a year now, but is it time for something new? would i be more productive if i went to an office every day again? i guess what i'm interested in is why i'm so stuck at the moment.

i think it started a few weeks ago when we had husband's old management group over for dinner on a tuesday night. because i'm working at home, i was, of course, home all day, so i was able to prepare the dinner (a big mess of fajitas) and dessert (a pavlova and some creamy, rich chocolate cups). my sister was here, but she had a lunch appointment, so she didn't come home to help 'til late afternoon.

when everyone arrived, i was wearing an apron over my little black j. peterman dress (dang, it's on sale now!). after all, i didn't want a bunch of fajita juice all over it. while husband took everyone outside to show them around the new place and for welcome drinks, monica and i finished up the dinner. we ate the dinner and according to plan, everyone raved over the food. i messed up the pavlova, because i don't really know my oven so well yet, so it was a bit crispy on the bottom [read: burned] and i foolishly didn't actually notice that 'til i had already served it to everyone. so, i joked and told them to avoid eating the very bottom. all very relaxed.

one of the group was a woman in my age group, who is in charge of payroll at husband's work (not a small company, so this is a significant position). she voiced political opinions that were more than a bit disturbing (anti-immigrant with an immigrant in the room!). she also joked the entire evening about firing people, mostly to her male colleagues, indicating to me that she felt a need to show she was as tough as the boys. she made comments that made me think that she thought i was a hausfrau (one of my worst fears). but later, when i thought about the apron, i guess i could understand her perception. in short, she totally rubbed me the wrong way in her white french-cuffed tailored blouse.

i suppose in a way, it made me feel a bit insecure. the thought that i could be perceived as a hausfrau almost as horrifying as anything i could imagine. i felt a strange compulsion to prove myself as a career woman and kept making reference to my previous employer (the other big company in denmark), as a means of proving my own testosterone levels. and afterwards, i felt bad about the whole thing. how pathetic that i felt the need to prove myself to some twat [pronounce this in your head as hugh grant would pronounce it and it will sound as i mean it to sound] who i will never meet again and who i could honestly care less about? why did i waste a single moment of angst or regret on this person who so clearly doesn't matter one iota in my life?

did she dig up something deeper in me? some feeling of dissatisfaction within myself? is it time for me to move on to whatever is next, rather than holding here in the liminal space? am i really holding? or is it just that i can't accept how actually totally awesome my situation is? i have the privilege of mostly working at home, so i'm here to take my daughter to school and pick her up. i sit all day at my gorgeous iMac and i write about things that fascinate me (when i can write, which i currently cannot, which is part of the problem) and then i travel to wonderful places, meet great people who stimulate me intellectually and professionally, eat fantastic food and stay in awesome hotels. are you serious, what's not to be satisfied about?

so, why am i feeling restless? why can't i just enjoy the here and now? why do i get all tied up in knots and restrict my own ability to finish the things i'm working on? is it just the changing of seasons? or is it something more? and how do i get to the bottom of it?

pure potentiality

as i embarked on this trip, i had the notion that when the time came to head home, i would no longer be in the liminal space, i would be able to see the paths ahead and know quite clearly which one to choose. that hasn't happened. after a week in singapore, i have the same questions for myself:

1. can i live in disneyland, even if it does have embassies? and even if it's safe and clean? and there's no chewing gum in sight, so that means i won't find it stuck to the carpet like i do at home?
2. is this place that giant mall i've been dreaming of?
3. is it worth the risks? being part of a new venture is extremely appealing and i do feel that i believe very much in the project and that i could contribute significantly to its success, but will we be happy living here?

over this week, as the waters have remained murky, i've been discussing it all with husband on the phone. my impression is that he has grown keener on the idea as the week has progressed and he's actively planning where to store some of our things (all that driftwood we've collected), gleefully scheming about what to throw out and looking into the tax implications. 

i think i hoped for a bolt of lightning to strike and give me the feeling that i just KNEW what the right answer was. i've pondered a little bit how i tend to make decisions. pretty much, i take in the facts, mull it over (usually for a couple of minutes, tops) and then make a decision based on gut feeling. but my gut seems to be silent in all of this. perhaps it's in a sushi-induced coma. it's not telling me anything one way or the other. where are all of those voices that are usually chattering away in my head? how am i supposed to decide when none of the usual factors are there?

part of it is because things didn't get any clearer this week. i still don't know the terms. i still don't know the terms of the other possibilities that are on the horizon (and one more came up this week in a totally random phone call, so that muddies the waters a bit as well). and that's surely why i'm not coming to any answer. 

so, husband and i continue to speculate as to how it will all turn out, like a CNN broadcast, in the middle of a potential story that might not even be a story, while waiting for the facts to roll in. and we continue in the liminal space. suspended in a state of pure potentiality.

in the meantime, if you want to see something totally weird that i saw today, go here.

five hours in bangkok

i'm not sure what to do with myself for 5 hours in bangkok, the song was about one night...but i've managed to find a cushy thai business lounge and a wireless connection and i am looking pretty damn good here with my mac, despite the fact that i didn't bring a comb and so my hair is a little, ahem, shall we say, tousled, from the night flight. it is a testament to the awesomeness of my haircut that it more or less looks ok anyway. thank you, maria from glasgow, you hairdressing goddess!

as i look around at the HPs and dells and even an acer in my vicinity in the lounge, i feel very happy to have invested in the mac. perhaps even a little bit superior. ok, more than a little bit, but i did say that i was shallow.

so, what does one do in an airport with so much time to kill? there's shopping. i've already looked around at a countless array of thai relaxation products (i restrained, tho' i was briefly tempted by an eye mask) and small stuffed elephants (also restrained).  i was literally the first one off my plane (i love sitting in row 1). this new airport in bangkok is looking more finished than the last time i was here (i last came through on the second or third day it was open). it is big and really very nice. but it could use a few more entertainment venues for people with long layovers--they could take a lesson from kuala lumpur where there's a cinema.

there's a spa here in the lounge and after a bit, i'm going to go and get a shoulder massage. or should i go for feet and legs? hmm, so many choices. it's good to be gold.

here there is less of the skin crawling feeling i had at the gate in copenhagen. the people here are  obviously business people. back there, it was obvious that most of the back of the back of the plane was going to be filled with sex tourists. you know when you see a slightly greasy-looking man with a mullet and a white sport coat the reason he's headed for thailand. yuck. makes me very happy that i'm just passing through. it seems to me that undercurrent is always present in thailand. the scent of seamy exploitation. gives me the shivers just thinking about it.

onto happier topics...people watching. there is a cluster of lovely thai girls in beautiful long silk skirts in a rich purple and lighter purple suit-style jackets tending the lounge. they are smiling shyly at the passengers passing through and chattering in an animated way to one another. isn't there something romantic about a language you don't understand that makes it seem as if people are having a really important conversation? i wonder what they're talking about...

my week ahead is on my mind, the anticipation of what it will bring. there's something delicious about anticipating the unknown. i always want to capture the feeling and not have that transition from unknown to known happen too quickly, which is strange because i'm otherwise an extremely impatient person. i feel the same way when reading a great book...i both want to skip to the end and to savor it and not have it come too quickly. i want to know now what the week will bring at the same time as i want time to slow down so it doesn't come too fast. oh wonderful, agonizing anticipation. whatever it brings, it will undoubtedly be interesting. it's fitting that i sit here in the liminal space that is an airport, feeling that i'm on the brink of something irresistible, new and exciting.

i love airports

i know it sounds strange, but i love airports. i love the energy they have. here in the nordic countries, it has to do with their architecture--high to the ceilings, light, airy, use of beautiful natural woods together with steel and glass constructions. the architecture of the airport lends to the atmosphere. when it's high to the ceiling and light and bright, it feels like anything is possible. an energetic, happy expectation fills the air.

people are either headed out on a holiday or a business trip that's full of possibility. or they're arriving home after a trip, happy to be home. so, generally, people in airports exude a positive, expectant energy. it has also to do with liminality (that favorite topic of mine which i haven't visited in awhile). an airport is a purely liminal space--on the border between what was and what is yet to come. everyone is full of the potential for change--to be changed by the sights seen on a holiday, to be changed by the next business deal, to be changed by the new people they encounter and the experiences they will have. they are on the threshold, in transition. maybe that's what i love about an airport. its liminality.

it's lucky i love them, because i seem to spend quite a lot of time there.

imagining a painting

today i start a painting course. like with oil paints and turpentine and canvases. already, i am imagining what i will do. i said aloud yesterday that i was imagining a multi-media canvas. due to my known deep and abiding love for iPods, those who heard this immediately imagined that i would fix one or more iPods to a canvas, paint them bright pink and make sure there was a way to plug it all in. i hadn't really thought about that, but they may be onto something there...no, instead, i have hazy pictures in my head (they haven't jelled yet) of bits of driftwood, knitted or felt decoration and beads on the canvas together with vibrant, lively colors. there are textures and combinations of the natural and the manufactured. the painting somehow addresses the question of memory which so occupies me at the moment.

there's something so exciting and anticipatory about holding pictures in your brain of soon-to-be-born creative endeavors...i am almost loathe to try to wrestle them to the canvas, as then that feeling of anticipation will dissipate and i will undoubtedly on some level experience disappointment. for while it is still in imagination, anything is possible, and once it's there on the canvas, it's solidified. yet, at the same time, i can't wait to get started. i'm in the liminal space once again, on the threshhold of something and full of anticipation to see how it turns out...

liminal spaces

i've long been attracted to the notion of liminality--the condition of being on a threshold or at the beginning of a process. with it there is also that sense of being in between. i've been suspended in a liminal space for nearly ten years now...living outside the country of my birth--i feel less and less that i belong in the u.s. and actively resist entirely belonging in denmark. while it can be a lonely feeling, mostly i feel it with a sense of expectant anticipation. i go through life always feeling that something is on the verge of happening. the same with being between jobs...you let go of the last one and look expectantly towards the next one. you hover on the threshold, not knowing what's ahead, but know that it must be better. it's tied for me to my ingrained presbyterian upbringing's notion of free will/destiny. although i must actively seek the next thing, at the same time, i am guided towards it by a firm hand (whose hand that is, i am not sure, but i strangely trust in the guidance). it remains hazy and unclear as of yet, but i feel in the (now) calm core of my soul that it is a brighter, better place. i feel also that it will become clear and then i'll be on the threshold of whatever is beyond. it's not really so bad, this liminal space which i inhabit.