The thought that keeps arising lately is this one:
I am living in the liminal.
I’m surrounded (and encroached upon) by the binary. The good or bad. The rich or poor. Love or hate. The right way or the wrong way. Perfect or imperfect. Light or dark. Him or her. Easy or hard. Healed or wounded. Ordinary or enchanted. Sacred or profane.
This is, I think, by design. I think we are being funnelled by the powers that be (billionaires, mostly) into a false narrative – a “pick your own ending” storybook, but they already picked the ending.
You can choose this way or that, but really, there is no other way but the way we think you should take.
And to that I flip the bird, because there is always a third road.
Between black and white, there is grey. Between rich and poor, there is enough. Between love and hate there is “what the fuck ever” or “I like it but I don’t love it” or “I don’t hate it but I don’t choose it, either.” Between perfect and imperfect, there is done as well as I can do it or I didn’t do it at all because it didn’t matter enough to try. Between him or her there is an entire wild garden of variety. Between healed and wounded there is *this is being alive and human*. Between ordinary and enchanted there is “it’s all fucking enchanting when it comes right down to it”. Between sacred and profane…
…there is no such thing, really.
There is no such thing.
I live in the liminal.
The messy middle is my home.
The angel? The devil?