The Light and the Moon

September 17 2020, at 9:34PM, our baby boyo, Oliver came bustling into the world, wide eyed and alert. He weighed in at a smashing 5lbs 5oz and a lengthy 47.5cm! Just a wee boyo, but so strong! Mom and Oliver were so strong and brave! I stood in awe of the life force born in front of me and the beauty of the circle of life as if to see my very own birth into this world.

Could there be any more beauty
than your eyes looking into mine
breathing the air together
under the same moon
we watch adjoined
as time
stands
still

Myriad of One

We have been divided
by the very utterance of good

and what must follow is magnetic
in nature, we are split in two

the dichotomy of the world is possessed
by the decision that we must oppose

for the tides do come and go
and the sun does become the moon

where beauty lay in between seasons
the dusk, the dawn, the Jupiter

and so we are unable to choose
just where to draw the line

16 yards does not equal 0 miles

Realize the spectacle of it all
through kaleidoscope eyes
as if to see the many truths

go to a time and place
where the I of the storm
were not one, but many

like riding the waves of the Nile
taking the boat of millions of years
to where the sun hits the sky

be sure to visit the library
where there are many stories
written not in symbols one can understand

and upon the final pass
do not look into the serpents gaze
as if to repeat the very words of division

They put you in a kennel because they love you

They call me weak, fickle
as if there were a time and space
where lies were not a common currency

with every bill passed from hands
dies the culture, just a little more
passing the venom off their tongues

as if speaking of a truth that only they can see
their eyes filled with the darkness of their own shadow
it's so easy to see it on their face

these are the ones that are heard
voices oh so big and loud
the spit and loathing slipping between the space of their gritted teeth

like a dog guarding its meal, as if it was the only meal
afraid for themselves and others
the ones that bite are put down, by society

and so we look for anything soothing
to take away the pain
that their caustic breath asphyxiates

yet still they will ask us, with a smile upon their face
somewhere along the lines of
"How's it going"?

Unsustainable, they whisper

Betwixt the moon and sun
day or night, it is not
both do rise and fall
so silently

Betwixt the fine line
of nor here or there
the sphere of it all
centers nowhere

Betwixt the sky and Earth
the moon becomes legion
as if to plant here in our body
nourishing soils

Betwixt you and I
the mastery of it all
liminal in its existence
plays life

and

Betwixt the in-betweens
lays time and events
appearing as one unabridged
empirical truth


When Oizys Meets the Death of Mercury

What is the point of being afraid? What in this modern day could we possibly have to fear? Looking past the superficial fears, the phobias, and digging deeper into the psyche of what it is we truly fear can be beneficial. We can learn a lot of ourselves and the world and we can grow from that potential.

Coming to terms with your own mortality can be seen as overcoming fear of death. Death being seen as a reasonable and natural driver of fear. What happens though, when we no longer fear death? What are the more existential fears? What is worse than death?

Well, how about the isolation and loneliness of still being alive, but no longer being able to communicate with others?

“Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.” – Carl Jung.

Jung was to me, a lonely man and his greatest fear was that of his reality, or God, in his sense. Not in death, but in life.

“I should hate the thought that I had touched on the sphere where the paint is made that colours the world, where the light is created that makes shine the splendour of the dawn, the lines and shapes of all form, the sound that fills the orbit, the thought that illuminates the darkness of the void“. – Carl Jung.

We all have experiences in our lives, that at some point seem ineffable and find ourselves isolated, although we may be surrounded by people willing to understand. The idea that we are misunderstood is often a misconception. However, the idea that we may become cast out and forgotten in life, is real.

“nothing more exists, nothing more matters, for whom saw the darkness in the gap between the things”. – Jorge de Sena.

These moments are crucial in their potential for growth. I don’t need to dive into this as it’s been done already. What I want to get at is the story behind the scene. I want to show you “the sphere where the paint is made that colours the world”.

“The soul is not a circle in the sense of the geometric figure but in that it at once contains the Primal Nature as centre and is contained by it as circumference [… We] hold through our own centre to the centre of all the centres, just as the centres of the great circles of a sphere coincide with that of the sphere to which all belong. Thus we are secure.” – Plotinus

“God is a sphere whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.”George Swinnock

“Thus we are secure.”. To me, they are all talking about the same thing. So what does it matter? What does it mean?

Well, to me, it is important to not only know the definition in which a word belongs, but to know and understand its meaning. To “read between the lines” so it is said. The quote of Jorge de Sena above tells of a visceral truth that once you go there it seems as if not possible to come back.

But we have to. The rite to the meaning of life is to explain our twisted tongues with our rightful minds. We have to “go there” and we have to come back with all the ineffable experiences and feelings that is entailed with this journey. To grow, to strengthen not only oneself but the tribe.

While the truth of our fears can shed light upon our own misery, our fears left alone will cast darkness upon our reality.

A loss of communication is akin to the loss of life, death itself.

I say, find your own centre. When you can find your own centre, you can reach out to the sphere around you. When you are able to do that, you have an anchor and a place to come back to after your journeys. To fear the dark, the spaces in between, or the journey is to fear life. To simply pretend these do not exist, is to fear death.

“God is reality itself.” – Carl Jung.

The Importance of Liminal Experiences Through Storytelling

Liminal experiences in this sense is anything in-between. It is the journey, not the destination. Why do I choose to use the words “liminal experiences” together, rather than the word “journey”? It is because I am trying to point out the universal traits to these moments of “in-betweeness” that we all know. These liminal experiences can be tough to explain in words, like trying to explain how you feel in between emotions. That “lul” or limbo. Others can be psychedelic, near death, or trascendental experiences induced by substances, major distress, or purposeful practice. Flying in a plane, sky diving, or bungee jumping are all liminal experiences. They are pshysical moments of “in-betweeness”. It is the space in between that makes these activities possible.


These moments of liminality, these liminal experiences of the journey in between destinations or goals are extremely important. It’s like looking up at the moon and stars and only seeing the moon and stars. It is the space in between that makes them just as well as the objects themselves. Liminal experiences can also be seen as the absence of something, or someone. Life itself appears as destination in its wholeness, death can be seen as the ultimate liminal experience of our existence.


The process of going to sleep or waking up can be seen as a liminal experience. Most people would prefer to be awake, or sleeping. Not a whole lot of our day is spent in the moments in between. This isn’t valued by our current societies. It isn’t seen as a productive state to be in.
I believe productivity is dying, and creativity is being reborn. This itself is a liminal state that we are all experiencing together. The death of a system. This is important to pay attention to.


Making a decision is a liminal process. Once your decision is made, you have now a goal or expectation in mind. The process of making the decision is ultimately the most important part of decision making, as this is literally what makes the decision.
Our cultures put emphasis and importance on some liminal experiences in our lives through rites of passage. For example, coming of age rituals, or school graduations, or marriage. There is usually great importance put on speeches during these times. The importance being to tie the events in time together with a story.


Liminal experiences, however, aside from the few rites of passage that our society celebrates are not valued. They are usually forgotten and pushed aside as residue or waste of time. They are not viewed as productive as they are not “accomplishing” anything objectively.
I do have to admit that writing this out at this point is much like trying to talk about nothing, as in the absence of something tangible. Much like the spaces between each word or letter on this page. Liminality is hard to explain without relation, without context.


Our true essence, our true self is liminal in existence. It is nor here or there and not bound by time, we cannot put a finger on it. To explain our rightful minds with our twisted tongues is our rite to the meaning of life. This is where story telling comes in.


These liminal experiences, as elusive as they are, must be expressed through any form possible. Through creativity, not productivity. Getting back to the mythology of it all is really what it is all about. To create and to express creation through any means necessary. There is no structure, there are no guidelines, or ideologies to follow. This must come from within and this is a scary thought.


“Stories need liminality; the middle of every story is liminal — disruptive, chaotic, disorienting, and transformative. Transformation always requires death of the old person to become something new. Our lives are full of inconvenient setbacks from some purpose we don’t comprehend. In waiting, we become”. – Iona Miller.

I say to die before death and to let life be and in this way you will allow yourself to live. To live is to embrace the liminality of your true existence. To understand that you ARE the in-between. Create time within each day to notice, feel, and express these moments. In this you will learn more about yourself than you could ever imagine.

As always,