#108wordstories - liminal space

In a coffee shop, I Googled a term that popped into my head:

“...where we are between the familiar and the completely unknown. There alone is our old world left behind, while we are not yet sure of the new existence. That’s a good space where genuine newness can begin. Get there often and stay as long as you can by whatever means possible…This is the sacred space where the old world is able to fall apart, and a bigger world is revealed. If we don’t encounter liminal space in our lives, we start idealizing normalcy.”

Liminal space. Having a name for the beautiful, uncertain in-between feels good.

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#108wordstories - anxiety

As the yoga class progressed, my anxiety flared up, as it tends to do when I let my guard down. My thoughts turned to worries about what I said to a colleague the other day and if they took it the way I meant it, if I was doing what I was meant to be doing with my life, if I’d left a candle burning in my living room. Stop looking for pain. Stop creating negativity. Life is good. Be grateful. Inhale so, exhale hum. I am that. Stripped away of judgment, just me. The me I was with earlier, laying on my mat. It sort of worked.

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#108wordstories - meditation

There’s so much power in these two little words. Not I want to be, I will be, I should be, I wish I was. I am. Meaning you own your shit and speak your desires into reality. I am happy. I am thriving personally, professionally, and spiritually. I am at peace. I am a good friend/husband/wife/daughter/son. I am. This morning, my meditation was inhaling “I am,” and exhaling what I want to continue, increase, or manifest. Sinking into the space between the thoughts. Feeling. Being. Breathing. I am connected. I am grateful. I am happy. I am doing what I’m meant to be doing.

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#108wordstories - trust

Sometimes I find myself looking into the past, wishing I’d been more honest, brave, loving, and connected. (It’s funny how the small bumps in a long, lovely road are the ones that our minds always drive back to.) Then I look at my life now, and am so damn grateful for where and who I am. And I know that every bump in the road, even the ones that brought me to my knees, were somehow part of my flow. So when I catch myself looking backwards down my road, examining the bumps, or ahead, fearing the bumps I know will be there, I remind myself to trust.

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#108wordstories - presence

You are not your past. You are not the things you said and didn't say, did and didn’t do, could have been and should have been. You are not your family, friends, circumstances, heartbreaks and triumphs, hidden shames and boasted joys.

You are this breath, this moment, this sensation. You are the drumming heartbeat, the air on your skin, the energy that flows into you and through you and out of you. You are love. You are whatever you let yourself be.

And when you find yourself getting snared in the gnarly darkness, heavy regrets, and scratching what-ifs, maybe just sit awhile and breathe in more of yourself.

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#108wordstories

"Do you think about things people said years ago?”my acupuncturist asked as she placed needles in my neck. I imagined the release like a warm flood. “Do you think about things you said, and beat yourself up about them?" She had unknowingly summarized my last therapy session. I nodded, unable to look up from the table’s donut hole. "That's an earth trait," she said. "You need to practice release. Some people like to write on paper and dissolve it in water. But not you. You need to burn things. You have a lot of fire in you. Don't be afraid to burn things that need to go."

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#108wordstories

“No, I just – got like hit with a bunch of emotions, or maybe not, because I actually didn’t feel anything, and then I fell against the wall and wasn’t able to stand back up for a while.” It sounded strange when I explained it. He came over and wrapped me tightly in his arms. We both knew now this was the best thing for him to do in these situations. Hold me, make me feel safe and loved, make me feel like I’m still part of this earth. I inhaled his musty, rich smell. Fresh deodorant and a sweet, underlying flavor that I could never quite name.

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#108wordstories

Sweaty shoulders and a dusky room. The day has been quiet, and its stillness melts into the evening.

My fingers spread wide on the mat, palms pressing down. I close my eyes. With each breath something opens and something softens. Something melts away. There are a few things in this world that make me feel connected, that lead me home. Yoga is one of them. The warmth of the room loosens me and I can breathe easier. For the first time today I notice the air coming in and out of me. It’s an easy cycle, going down into my belly and filling it, like a comforting meal.

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