I'm currently self-absorbed in recovering from a surgery. This has taken all my strength, especially the commitment to rest so I can heal. I'm not a rester by nature, so I've been challenged. Surprisingly, I've been having time to think, to purge old ideas and draw in new ones. I believe I'll heal both physically and spiritually in the long run. The healing process can be fruitful!
In 2014, my mother died at the age of just short of 101. I was 72. I had an experience I constantly refer back to in my private writing as "no veils". For a moment, standing on my back deck in a light that was not July but some other light (like Indian summer), everything fell away and...well, there were no veils; no veils between me and my mother (whom I loved but didn't really grieve, as she had such a good, long life) and no veils between me and...Reality/God/everything/anything. That's all I can say. I don't know if you can make such a thing happen; all you can do is just be ready for it when it comes. Maybe the self-absorption is a herald?
Beautiful post. I am too finding myself discouraged, sad, anxious, self-centered. I blame the election and now the fear of the next 4 years, feeling like an outcast in my own country. But it’s also the darkness and rain of Seattle that lasts 6 months.
It always helps me to spend time with friends and express radical gratitude, the ultimate mood-booster. I think I need to adopt a dog, make it about them. Become a dog-mom again.
Hope the clouds lift for you, and you have a wonderful holiday season. ❤️
I could have written every word of this comment Katie. Yes to blaming the election and the PNW weather! Also, I miss my dog so much, a year after losing her, but so much travel coming up, it isn't responsible to do the dog-mom thing right now. I want you to keep us posted on the dog search!
In his memoir "A Severe Mercy," Shelden Vanauken (a contemporary and friend of C S Lewis) writes about his conversion to Christianity. He writes of standing on the edge of a cliff, looking at the chasm below, his intense fear of making a "leap of faith." But then, he looked behind him, and the secure earth of agnosticism was crumbling. He either had to leap to an uncertain future, or be crushed by the past. He leapt. The threshold moment! I have had so many of those. On the night before my first restaurant opened, I hoped the fire department would call and say the whole building had gone up in smoke! Of course, we opened, and the next ten years were the most incredible experience in my life. In fact, I've come to identify those moments when I am terrified of moving forward as a sign that it is exactly the right thing to do. I think all the great choices of my life are preceded by fear ... until I leap. Thanks for your reflection, Brooke, at a time of year when people are afraid to say they're sad or struggling. And for helping us all to cross the threshold with joy and embrace the mystery of the unknown.
With my own chaos, I almost didn't take time to read this post. What a mistake that would have been. This is my favorite thing you've written on Substack, Brooke. I so appreciate your insights. If you decide you've had it with book publishing and writing, I think you'd make a great therapist!
My first pregnancy was an ectopic one and ended with the surgical removal of a Fallopian tube. For the next year, I thrashed and took one step forward and one step back. I wanted a child more than anything, but was paralyzed by the fear of another ectopic pregnancy and the removal of the other tube. Finally, I decided to let nature take its course. Nine months later, I had a healthy baby boy. (I am so thankful I stepped over that threshold into the waiting arms of motherhood!)
You describe the liminal state perfectly, as it can feel like a whirl. And when we lose sight of our true spirit, it certainly is that awful self-centeredness which (in itself) is depressing. I use grounding to pass through the transition. This can be a meditative walk where I am actively aware of my footsteps, or yoga where I keep reminding myself to "be here now." Or, yes it works, prayer.
Maggie, yes. I love your use of the word liminal here. Not quite a dream, but neither is it true life. I didn’t park here, my motor’s running, and my wheels are mired in a rut. I’ve not so much lost sight of my true spirit, as I can’t get back to her. The threshold invites, but there’s a membrane over the doorway, a trampoline that seems to throw me back after each attempt to cross. I’ll try your grounding exercises. 🙏🏼
My humble suggestion? Surrender. And then, when you think you’ve surrendered, surrender more.
For myself, this is how I now navigate every transition, every experience, because when we accept and surrender to what is, we take back our power. The alternative? Fighting against what is-and in my experience, that never ends well.
I am absorbed in my husband's path to healing and sorting out his business so we can retire. After his surgery in January, I will be his primary helper and will take care of the aspects of living that he usually does. During the 35 years we have been together, we have created an interdependent web that supports us, our family, and all we care about. The unexpected aspect of this threshold experience, this illness as teacher moment, is that we are enjoying our lives fully, not missing opportunities to take what life offers and to appreciate each other. We have created a wonderful life together, have met many challenges. and will meet this one as well with love, respect, and faith. Now instead of leaning on my husband, I am leaning on my inner strength.
This is beautiful, Judith. Thanks for sharing this because it's giving voice to what I was trying to articulate in this post—the ways that absorption is necessary and provides growth opportunities. Sending you both much love and strength during this threshold moment.
Love this insightful post. I wish I had words of wisdom for you, but I don't. Transitions are hard. I was far more devastated than I ever expected when my kids left the nest. It didn't help that my mother was dying and I was in a menopausal nightmare. The only constant is change. Ten years on, I have never been happier. Cherish each day. ❤️
Brooke, I recently posted a 4-minute audio of a lesson about endings and beginnings that I learned in a rainforest in Ecuador. It’s about entering dark spaces (endings) and moving toward light (beginnings). The election sparked this memory. Here it is if you have a few minutes.
Your message came at just the right time for me, as a reminder that I need to move forward creatively and hopefully. The November election results put me in a deep hole emotionally. I'm sure others share that feeling. Your message about stepping through the open door before each of us encouraged me to climb out of that hole. Thank you.
When we are in the middle of a segue from one condition/situation and another and are aware of it, we can feel unbalanced and yet expansive. Our familiar definitions drop away, and we are hovering within ourselves as we shed our skin and our consciousness shifts and blends. It is profound, complex, and simple all at once. The narrator/watcher within us is tracking all this while living it, deepening it. An interesting state of mind, special. A harbinger of an expanse to come.
I am bathing in my self-absorption post divorce. I only just realised my lack of social interactions these past two years is due to the depressive state I found myself in (in the beginning) which led to my learning to write my memoir. It is the inner voice giving the child you, the teenage you, the married post marriage you to keep on keeping on. it was either this, entertaining it, nourishing it, or wallowing in self-pity.
Thank you for putting words to this state of mind, Brooke. I am at a double threshold at the moment, where I'm both birthing a book and saying goodbye to a precious friend in hospice, someone who happens to be connected to my book. It's both eerie and odd and meant to be at once. The things that I find grounding at times like these: I try to quiet the chatter in my head and listen for the whisper of truth in my heart; I seek out voices of reassurance in my life for unconditional support; and I prioritize sleep. I will mention that as I have gotten older I have come to realize that these moments of threshold are less episodic and more continuous - that we're always living amidst the beginnings, middles, and endings of things, and often all three at once. Give yourself grace when you need it, and know you are never alone.
I love this perspective, Marty, and thanks for letting us know about your thresholds. They are moments to behold, and I definitely agree that knowing you're not alone is everything. Perhaps that's what compelled me to write this post. And why these online connections are so powerful. Sending you love.
I'm currently self-absorbed in recovering from a surgery. This has taken all my strength, especially the commitment to rest so I can heal. I'm not a rester by nature, so I've been challenged. Surprisingly, I've been having time to think, to purge old ideas and draw in new ones. I believe I'll heal both physically and spiritually in the long run. The healing process can be fruitful!
I'm sure it will be, Tess. Sending you strength for this part of the journey!
I appreciate all your posts, and I cherish the ones that you share your vulnerability.
Thank you, it feels less alone to know regardless of our age, we are in this period of transitions and crossing over.
Interestingly, on Tuesday, I declared myself as an average older woman. My trauma and survival are no longer my curse or superpower, it just was.
This leaves an absence, opening or a space in between. The space to cross to something new.
I hope to fill that space with beauty, joy and magic to approach the uncertainty of the days ahead.
In the world writ large, it feels as if we all are crossing a threshold, it feels uncertain, frightening, hopeful and possibly beautiful.
Let's be average older women together, my friend! We are indeed crossing over—into beautiful things in our futures. I feel it. And I believe it.
I want to join the club. Average older creative women! Or maybe you left off creative because that is part of being average for women? Could be.
You are definitely in the club, Jennifer! :)
Gracias, amiga!
Welcome to the Club! Average Older Woman (AOW)! We'll have to discuss if our creativity is part of being average or a byproduct or both.
In 2014, my mother died at the age of just short of 101. I was 72. I had an experience I constantly refer back to in my private writing as "no veils". For a moment, standing on my back deck in a light that was not July but some other light (like Indian summer), everything fell away and...well, there were no veils; no veils between me and my mother (whom I loved but didn't really grieve, as she had such a good, long life) and no veils between me and...Reality/God/everything/anything. That's all I can say. I don't know if you can make such a thing happen; all you can do is just be ready for it when it comes. Maybe the self-absorption is a herald?
Brooke, You mention a lot of things. I will focus on one you don't, your love interest. Surely that's a part of it. How's that going?
Joy is a gift of the Spirit.
Bob
She supports me through the thrashing, good woman that she is. ❤️ Happy Holidays, Bob. Sending you love.
Indeed! Thank you, Betsy. This is a lovely image to sit with.
Beautiful post. I am too finding myself discouraged, sad, anxious, self-centered. I blame the election and now the fear of the next 4 years, feeling like an outcast in my own country. But it’s also the darkness and rain of Seattle that lasts 6 months.
It always helps me to spend time with friends and express radical gratitude, the ultimate mood-booster. I think I need to adopt a dog, make it about them. Become a dog-mom again.
Hope the clouds lift for you, and you have a wonderful holiday season. ❤️
I could have written every word of this comment Katie. Yes to blaming the election and the PNW weather! Also, I miss my dog so much, a year after losing her, but so much travel coming up, it isn't responsible to do the dog-mom thing right now. I want you to keep us posted on the dog search!
Yes, become a dog mom again! And I think it's okay to blame the election.
In his memoir "A Severe Mercy," Shelden Vanauken (a contemporary and friend of C S Lewis) writes about his conversion to Christianity. He writes of standing on the edge of a cliff, looking at the chasm below, his intense fear of making a "leap of faith." But then, he looked behind him, and the secure earth of agnosticism was crumbling. He either had to leap to an uncertain future, or be crushed by the past. He leapt. The threshold moment! I have had so many of those. On the night before my first restaurant opened, I hoped the fire department would call and say the whole building had gone up in smoke! Of course, we opened, and the next ten years were the most incredible experience in my life. In fact, I've come to identify those moments when I am terrified of moving forward as a sign that it is exactly the right thing to do. I think all the great choices of my life are preceded by fear ... until I leap. Thanks for your reflection, Brooke, at a time of year when people are afraid to say they're sad or struggling. And for helping us all to cross the threshold with joy and embrace the mystery of the unknown.
With my own chaos, I almost didn't take time to read this post. What a mistake that would have been. This is my favorite thing you've written on Substack, Brooke. I so appreciate your insights. If you decide you've had it with book publishing and writing, I think you'd make a great therapist!
Thank you, Kate. I am the product of two therapists so I come by it honestly. :)
This.
My first pregnancy was an ectopic one and ended with the surgical removal of a Fallopian tube. For the next year, I thrashed and took one step forward and one step back. I wanted a child more than anything, but was paralyzed by the fear of another ectopic pregnancy and the removal of the other tube. Finally, I decided to let nature take its course. Nine months later, I had a healthy baby boy. (I am so thankful I stepped over that threshold into the waiting arms of motherhood!)
You describe the liminal state perfectly, as it can feel like a whirl. And when we lose sight of our true spirit, it certainly is that awful self-centeredness which (in itself) is depressing. I use grounding to pass through the transition. This can be a meditative walk where I am actively aware of my footsteps, or yoga where I keep reminding myself to "be here now." Or, yes it works, prayer.
Thank you, Maggie. Losing sight of true spirit, then working to get aligned again. This.
Maggie, yes. I love your use of the word liminal here. Not quite a dream, but neither is it true life. I didn’t park here, my motor’s running, and my wheels are mired in a rut. I’ve not so much lost sight of my true spirit, as I can’t get back to her. The threshold invites, but there’s a membrane over the doorway, a trampoline that seems to throw me back after each attempt to cross. I’ll try your grounding exercises. 🙏🏼
My humble suggestion? Surrender. And then, when you think you’ve surrendered, surrender more.
For myself, this is how I now navigate every transition, every experience, because when we accept and surrender to what is, we take back our power. The alternative? Fighting against what is-and in my experience, that never ends well.
And I loved your post, thank you ❤️
YES, Sister! ❤️
I am absorbed in my husband's path to healing and sorting out his business so we can retire. After his surgery in January, I will be his primary helper and will take care of the aspects of living that he usually does. During the 35 years we have been together, we have created an interdependent web that supports us, our family, and all we care about. The unexpected aspect of this threshold experience, this illness as teacher moment, is that we are enjoying our lives fully, not missing opportunities to take what life offers and to appreciate each other. We have created a wonderful life together, have met many challenges. and will meet this one as well with love, respect, and faith. Now instead of leaning on my husband, I am leaning on my inner strength.
This is beautiful, Judith. Thanks for sharing this because it's giving voice to what I was trying to articulate in this post—the ways that absorption is necessary and provides growth opportunities. Sending you both much love and strength during this threshold moment.
Love this insightful post. I wish I had words of wisdom for you, but I don't. Transitions are hard. I was far more devastated than I ever expected when my kids left the nest. It didn't help that my mother was dying and I was in a menopausal nightmare. The only constant is change. Ten years on, I have never been happier. Cherish each day. ❤️
The other side is out there waiting! :)
Brooke, I recently posted a 4-minute audio of a lesson about endings and beginnings that I learned in a rainforest in Ecuador. It’s about entering dark spaces (endings) and moving toward light (beginnings). The election sparked this memory. Here it is if you have a few minutes.
https://aliciamrodriguez.substack.com/p/a-lesson-from-the-rainforest
Your message came at just the right time for me, as a reminder that I need to move forward creatively and hopefully. The November election results put me in a deep hole emotionally. I'm sure others share that feeling. Your message about stepping through the open door before each of us encouraged me to climb out of that hole. Thank you.
When we are in the middle of a segue from one condition/situation and another and are aware of it, we can feel unbalanced and yet expansive. Our familiar definitions drop away, and we are hovering within ourselves as we shed our skin and our consciousness shifts and blends. It is profound, complex, and simple all at once. The narrator/watcher within us is tracking all this while living it, deepening it. An interesting state of mind, special. A harbinger of an expanse to come.
Agreed, Linda Joy. I think these are the moments that sit with us and that beg to come out later in story. I'm paying attention. ❤️
I am bathing in my self-absorption post divorce. I only just realised my lack of social interactions these past two years is due to the depressive state I found myself in (in the beginning) which led to my learning to write my memoir. It is the inner voice giving the child you, the teenage you, the married post marriage you to keep on keeping on. it was either this, entertaining it, nourishing it, or wallowing in self-pity.
So glad you're writing through it. These early drafts when you're living it are so helpful for capturing the raw and real emotion of it all.
Yes! This! ❤️
Thank you for putting words to this state of mind, Brooke. I am at a double threshold at the moment, where I'm both birthing a book and saying goodbye to a precious friend in hospice, someone who happens to be connected to my book. It's both eerie and odd and meant to be at once. The things that I find grounding at times like these: I try to quiet the chatter in my head and listen for the whisper of truth in my heart; I seek out voices of reassurance in my life for unconditional support; and I prioritize sleep. I will mention that as I have gotten older I have come to realize that these moments of threshold are less episodic and more continuous - that we're always living amidst the beginnings, middles, and endings of things, and often all three at once. Give yourself grace when you need it, and know you are never alone.
I love this perspective, Marty, and thanks for letting us know about your thresholds. They are moments to behold, and I definitely agree that knowing you're not alone is everything. Perhaps that's what compelled me to write this post. And why these online connections are so powerful. Sending you love.
Sending you love back. ❤️