LIMINAL AND LUMINOUS

In such months as these the weather can go either way. And it does. Sometimes it snows and at other ones it rains. There was a spring day full of warmth and something hopeful and alluring could be sensed in and about the air. Then there was an ice storm, and the power went out and caused many problems that still linger. So, it is not yet spring and the winter is over. So what is such a time called? It’s like a peculiar afterlife bardo in ways, - or way station.

The gods and lords, the guides and angels, are perhaps taking accounts. Who is the God of spring? Is there a God of transition? Persephone is the spring goddess. But she has not truly arrived. Surely she is on the way. When she blooms, the winter is forgiven its transgressions, and people in a way become happy, forgetful. And who wants to remember winter’s vacant stare, void-like, w/ spring, a boon to our spirit, singing its green chorus?

But for now it’s neither. The night comes, and it brings cold. It’s a liminal time. The electrical lights still brighten the evening, - lights we would hardly need under the right July moon and star painted firmament. The strip plaza and the larger areas are lit by these. The world would do well to lighten itself further, - and celebrate the in-between time. It should string lights on the palisade and balustrade both, the porches and parapets all, -the stair railings and the back-fences of everywhere…

But then it would not be really defeat the in-between time, would it?

Because you can’t cheat the real cycles- not really…

So we are in the bardo, alive, and have to wait. Our deeds and the universal deeds have sown the seeds and we shall see what ‘springs’ forth when it does.

Not sooner. Not later. 

Until then we drive by those lights, luminous in the liminal time. Bright for invention in the still-cold night. 




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