In Between

 In Between 

I am in the liminal space of time unfolding. 

Not quite annoyed, not yet angry even. As if my old default mode has finally expired. 

I feel waves of old consciousness' patterns lap up against my toes. They tickle. So familiar. Worn out. Worn in. Like a really loved set of sheets. 

That's something we don't buy many of. Sheets. Hmmm. 

Slumped over, I sit, feeling the feeling again; familiar, worn out. It's not comfortable, it's not great either. 

It's in between. Not black or white. Not even bright. Just there. Mind quieted by sheer repetitive willpower to overcome and choose contentment. 

I feel in between today. Just like nature, those in the northern hemisphere will understand. Spring Equinox approaching, yet not quite here. Winter lingers Hyr long cold fingers. 

But today the wind howled and whistled. A witch told me once that when the wind holed like that it was the spirits, ghouls and ghosts travelling about. Best stay out of their way. Perfect to stay indoors. 

My daughter, upon hearing the wind, says: "Maybe it's the Queen!", of England, she means. " 'Cause she's dead!" and therefore a ghost, howling with the wind. 

Anyways, the wind, I feel, are blowing Winter along. Making the announcement of Spring. Spirits foretelling the arrival of the faeries, who return from the underworld on the Spring Equinox. 

I surrender to this in between, Now-ness. 

I accept the in between. 

I welcome the in between. 

I am in between.