Over the last few days, the light has been extraordinary in this corner of South West Wales.
Sometimes, the valley has been book-ended by the darkest of clouds, with clear blue sunlight in the middle.
The layers of light are dramatic and challenge my notion of sky. How can we have so much weather in one place at the same time?
Yet, we want our experience to be predictable, to have some certainty and clarity, to be able to prepare.
But perhaps there’s a different kind of preparation we need to do now.
These layers of life invite us to explore both the light and the dark. To notice the edges and feel the contours. Not fearing what lies behind and not choosing to run from ambiguity.
This is the liminal space many of us now inhabit. The now but not yet. The hint of something different in intangible form, which awakens our senses to possibilities as yet unseen.
This journey requires a different kind of courage – the vulnerability of unknowing.
The bravery to ask questions of ourselves and each other – with grace.
And be prepared for unsettling answers – that will stir our hearts to change.
Because change brings life, and real-life is never safe.
John O’Donohue explored this liminal space in so many ways in his work. Here is an excerpt from his blessing For the Interim Time:
As far as you can, hold your confidence.
Do not allow your confusion to squander
This call which is loosening
Your roots in false ground,
That you might come free
From all you had outgrown.
What is being transfigured here is your mindJohn O’Donohue, Benedictus: A Book of Blessings, Bantam Press, 2007
And it is difficult and slow to become new,
The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the new dawn.
Let’s walk together.
I have been drawn to different ways of seeing this week. They invite us to come closer, together, and explore the maybe, leaving our fear of the door.