I like the word liminal. It's from the Latin word limen, threshold, and it means the ambiguous zone between two states of being. I like the way the word sounds, and I also find it describes situations I often find myself in. The beach is liminal, with tidepools that are sometimes wet, sometimes dry. Fog on the mountain is liminal. Airports are liminal. Some life phases are liminal. Adolescence is liminal. We are experiencing a liminal phase now, with the pandemic receding and our post-pandemic lives forming. Transitions are exciting for some people. I don't always enjoy being in a liminal place. Uncertainties unnerve me. But it's sure not boring.
July 19, 2021
I got this plant (his name is Arnold) last year. I repotted him in the beginning of the summer, but it's time for him to be repotted again now, because he's had some babies and they've gotten big. Taking care of my plants has been really calming throughout all of this. Watering them has become a ritual and now that I've been home almost constantly, I can see how big they've all gotten. Repotting them before the fall and winter will give them more room to spread their roots and then grow next year. Even if I'm not able to take care of myself as well as I should be (hence why I put up a printout of a CBT triangle my therapist gave me years ago), I can still take care of them. (The diplodocus' name is Kenny, a camper gave him to me almost 5 years ago. He loves the plants too).
March 9, 2021