September 13, 2013

The In-Between. ~ Dana Gornall

Photo: Vicky Mania on Pixoto.

I have been in-between for so long that I don’t remember being anything else.

Life seems to be at the cusp of everything and nothing and I am always right in the middle. I go to yoga, but I am not still a beginner and yet so far from being a yogi. My poses are improving, but I still can’t touch my toes.

I am a meditator, but I still can’t sit for longer than eight minutes. My brain bounces around from topic to topic and some days I just can’t seem to find the energy to sit.

I am not at the start of a career, but nowhere near the end. As a matter of fact I seem to vacillate from one job to the next so much that I am left spinning at the end of the day. I get pretty good at these trades—massage therapist, interpreter, teacher, writer—but I haven’t mastered any of them completely.

I am not married, but not divorced. I am separated. I am not with anyone, but not really single.

It seems lately I am trying to find where I belong and where my identity lies.

I am all of these and yet none of them completely. I am in-between—that etheric space that has no label, no name.  While labels aren’t supposed to be important and stereotypes are looked down upon, but used, I find myself sometimes wishing I wasn’t in-between.

When the moon is hanging low in the dark sky, and I see it’s light outlining the clouds, and I have a moment of stillness and quiet mind, I wonder where I will be when I’m no longer in-between.

Will I be a yogi? A writer? A therapist? A single mom?

Where do I fit and where do I belong?

Some nights I wonder if maybe, I belong in the in-between.

This cloudy space of everything and nothing, happy and sad, present but unnamed. Lonely at times, but not really alone either. It is here that I float about without an anchor to hold me down.

Lying in wait in the periphery, people swarm about in their own places. I see where they belong, and sometimes think maybe I can find a spot in their world.

But for now I will wait in the interlude, suspended in the halfway point. Here is my home in-between.


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Ed: Catherine Monkman

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