Liminal: An Angry Place

Art by Cynthia Hanson

Liminal doesn’t have to be an angry place, but sometimes it is. Anger arises from a number of things. Injustice, loss, fear, hurt, confusion—all of these force a person into liminal space. So being angry can be a part of liminality.

I think that the anger that leads one into a liminal space has a great deal of power. Power to be changed and to effect change. Liminal anger can be turned inward or outward. It can destroy oneself or others. Or it can become a force that moves the inner person toward spiritual, mental, and emotional well-being and which then moves outward to enable others to be transformed as well.

The best way to manage anger in the liminal space is to give it the room it needs. Acknowledge it, examine its source, feel it as deeply as is needed, express it in ways that set one free rather than in ways that add shame, guilt, hurt, fear, or pain onto oneself or onto others.

If given proper recognition, anger can be the catalyst that brings healing in the liminal place.

Art: http://artismoving.blogspot.com/2008/12/art-of-darkness-interview-with.html

Peace, Be Still

Anger is a strange emotion. Sometimes, it seems to come from nowhere and for no reason. This happened to me today, and I have been annoyed ever since. I know what triggered the anger, but I can’t find the ground beneath it. It feels random and unsettling.

As a reflective person who spends not a little time splashing around in the deep well of my soul, I can usually find a rope connected to a bucket
and pull something up that makes sense and gives me
insight into the nature of what I am experiencing. But, alas, much as I have been thrashing about
in the well, no rope is to be found.

I know that the best thing to do is float for a while, but my perturbation makes me want to kick violently. I know that eventually the rope will surface, but my irritation makes me want to grasp wildly. I know that a sunken pail lies beneath the dark water, but my aggravation makes me want to dive blindly.

The words “Peace, be still” throw desire into my soul. But anger stirs a storm not easily calmed. Yet, there are no others to be had when the truth is hidden beneath the waves. My writhing stirs it down. My stillness brings it to the surface. There on the surface, the truth about my anger is then revealed. Settled in “Peace, be still.”

More on the -TY Mess

My project is still in its crappy state. I worked on it yesterday, again, in the same crappy way as the previous day. I didn’t think it could get any worse, but it did. I had to stop and do something else because the heat in my face was about to burst into more four-letter expletives.

Upon reflection, I realized that I was actually learning something about myself. I already knew that I could spew “bad” words, so it wasn’t that. No, I learned something about the process of things and how I like that process to be.

Erratic

I like the process to be predictable, not erratic. I like the process to be tidy, not sloppy. I began to feel like the process, messy as it was supposed to be, was a reflection on me, as though I couldn’t do erratic and sloppy the “right” way. The project wasn’t turning out the way that I thought crappy ought to turn out. The truth is that I didn’t know such crappiness could come from my hands.

Sloppy

The odd result that came of this was the realization that I wasn’t being myself. I was trying too hard (if you can imagine trying too hard to be sloppy). The trying-too-hard erratic sloppiness of my efforts showed me that there is another kind of sloppiness—a relaxed kind. When this occurred to me, I also remembered some things about this project that I had forgotten.

Crap

Suddenly, hope sparked anew. The process can be trusted. The final result will be worth the mess. Until then, it’s all crap.

The -TY Mess

Yesterday, I used the sh- word, and I don’t mean shoot or shucks. It was a solid four-letter word said with emphasis. And I didn’t say it just once or twice but several times right in a row. I was forcing myself to do a task in a way that was new to me. I was being stretched and challenged. I was frustrated.

I used the same word with regard to what I was producing as a result of this new approach. The only difference was that I added the –ty ending to appropriately create an adjective to describe my noun. My partially finished task was a mess, and it remains that way even now.  Contrary to my usual way of doing things, I left it in its –ty state because I know that is how it is supposed to be at this point in the work.

Parts of my spiritual journey have been somewhat like this. The work of the spirit begins to stretch me in new directions. Habitual ways of being are challenged. Life gets crappy, and there I sit in the middle of it. What saves me is the knowing that this is how it is supposed to be at this point in my journey. Hope assures me that somewhere down the road lies a clean watering hole with a bar of soap and a soft towel on its banks. This is the hope that carries me through the –ty mess.