Ah yes, the sacred soup of the in-between—neither caterpillar nor butterfly, just goo with a pulse. This post held me like a weighted blanket sewn by a Zen nun.
Thank you for naming the blurry liminal grace of unbecoming what no longer fits, without demanding a ta-da! from the universe. The monastery calls it apophatic fermentation. Most people just call it ‘a weird funk.’ Either way, it’s holy.
I shall now return to my cocoon, armed with this line: “You don’t need to perform clarity while you’re still untangling the knots.” Amen, and pass the snacks.
The most beautiful thing I have ever read. It like i was really reading about my situation and it gave me comfort and support to keep on going. Thank you, you just made my day.
This is such a tender, grounding piece. You’ve given voice to a space so many of us move through quietly—the blurry, sacred middle where we’re no longer who we were, but not yet fully who we’re becoming.
I especially felt this: “You are not lost. You are not behind. You are in-between. And that space is holy.”
Thank you for the reminder that we don’t need to rush clarity, perform progress, or have it all figured out. The quiet, slow unfolding is enough. And it’s real.
I’ll be sitting with that final prompt all week: What would shift if I stopped rushing who I’m becoming and started honoring where I already am?
Beautifully said, but even in this holy in-between, notice how the mind wants to name it, honour it, make it “sacred,” turn the blurry middle into the next badge on the path. You’re not who you were, not yet who you’ll be, but maybe there’s never really been a you to outgrow or arrive.
Stillness, grief, not-knowing, these, too, can become new roles to rehearse. What if this space didn’t need to be honoured, explained, or even survived? What if you could just let it be… nothing special at all?
Maybe the deepest rest is giving up the urge to make sense of your becoming, letting the blur be blurry, letting yourself be neither arriving nor departing, and letting that, too, go unnamed. No next version needed. No role to shed. Just this breath, already home.
In one perspective I call this "space in between" life itself. That space between who I used to be (birth) and the person I am becoming (death). In another perspective the space in between is any one of the myriad of deaths and births in throughout my life thus far. I've come to know my life as a series of deaths and births for sure. And each one continues to be as sweet as the last in how it shapes me, no matter what pain or loss has to be experienced. It's all a part of it.
Now at 65 I can hold grief in one hand and incredible joy in the other at the same time. I've learned to live in the unknown. In the unsettled. In those so many situations where I perceive the threats to my very becoming. They are after all, my teacher. It really is quite amazing of an awareness. I am grateful.
Most of all I keep in mind this life-changing piece of wisdom that was shared with me. I remember it when times get extra tough, especially when I think I will never fully become.
I guess it took me longer to believe I am in between, and this article planted me there. I feel 2 ways about this. I don't really feel like I ever arrived at the "Who You Were" other than I never settled into anything I could call myself, but partitioned myself more into "Who WE were" as entities, always curious, always dividing my energies, never settling into any one thing. My life has not suffered because of that. As my mother used to say, "You're changeable as the wind." I am married to someone who is 11 years younger than I am and he anchors me and all my endeavors, and I entertain him, he says his life has never been more fun.
I do feel in between regarding getting old. My family was very vain, that's what was important enough to them, they were all pretty people, Mother was voted prettiest woman on campus, my aunt won beauty pageants, my uncle looked like a blend of Rock Hudson and a tall Mel Gibson, my sister was always pretty and sought after, perfect bikini body and first born. In my younger years I still had plenty of boyfriends. My brother was shot down in Viet Nam and= Vanity was first priority.
Second priority was to find a career or profession. Of course this was the double edged sword of insecurity. If I didn't meet their vanity criteria, then naturally it would follow: who would hire you? But I think it was a blessing in disguise. I could not be happy working a 9 to 5 job, even though I have done it many times for survival.
I love the myriad of experiences I have had In my life, and people I have met, more than most people. But now, at 73 years of age, my grief lies in my body limiting me from feeling I have enough time to do anything. The world in front of me is limitless, I am the limited one. That's why I started writing. I never knew I could and this is my curtain that covers the in between stage.
My mind is still good , better than ever (even though I forget stuff a lot), but writing helps with that, too. The vanity ghosts still continue to haunt me, but I guess I am just coming to terms with that because I have learned as I get older that I can do just about anything, body allowing. Most of those people have died, they aren't pretty anymore, and I don't have to hear it any more.
So now I am ready for a different kind of beauty and have started on my open path again, in a different way. I lost a lot of weight, smaller than most of my adult life and although I'm pissed off that I am not going to regain visual beauty from that (Damn ghosts!) I am so confident of my capacities otherwise. I just need to change my interpretation of beauty because it doesn't matter any more (or maybe a teensy-weensy bit).
Hmmm, this might be a good post. thanks for the inspiration!
This was beautifully written. I’m definitely feeling like I’m in that in between in this phase of my life and learning to embrace and love the person I am now and not obsess over what I want to be. Growth and healing from the beliefs you’ve always told yourself is hard and I’ve tried to have grace with myself as I grow. Thanks for sharing ❤️
Your gentle words are reassuring. I’m in this in-between time, about to move away from a not-so-good relationship to…who knows what? After reading this, I feel like I don’t have to worry about whatever comes next. Thank you! 🦋
Ah yes, the sacred soup of the in-between—neither caterpillar nor butterfly, just goo with a pulse. This post held me like a weighted blanket sewn by a Zen nun.
Thank you for naming the blurry liminal grace of unbecoming what no longer fits, without demanding a ta-da! from the universe. The monastery calls it apophatic fermentation. Most people just call it ‘a weird funk.’ Either way, it’s holy.
I shall now return to my cocoon, armed with this line: “You don’t need to perform clarity while you’re still untangling the knots.” Amen, and pass the snacks.
It took me until my 40s to know the truth about butterflies. My mind was blown. One of the great mysteries of nature.
And once the butterfly is born, the wings need to dry before it takes flight. That pause after the goo is as important as the goo itself. 🦋
The most beautiful thing I have ever read. It like i was really reading about my situation and it gave me comfort and support to keep on going. Thank you, you just made my day.
This is such a tender, grounding piece. You’ve given voice to a space so many of us move through quietly—the blurry, sacred middle where we’re no longer who we were, but not yet fully who we’re becoming.
I especially felt this: “You are not lost. You are not behind. You are in-between. And that space is holy.”
Thank you for the reminder that we don’t need to rush clarity, perform progress, or have it all figured out. The quiet, slow unfolding is enough. And it’s real.
I’ll be sitting with that final prompt all week: What would shift if I stopped rushing who I’m becoming and started honoring where I already am?
So powerful.
Beautifully said, but even in this holy in-between, notice how the mind wants to name it, honour it, make it “sacred,” turn the blurry middle into the next badge on the path. You’re not who you were, not yet who you’ll be, but maybe there’s never really been a you to outgrow or arrive.
Stillness, grief, not-knowing, these, too, can become new roles to rehearse. What if this space didn’t need to be honoured, explained, or even survived? What if you could just let it be… nothing special at all?
Maybe the deepest rest is giving up the urge to make sense of your becoming, letting the blur be blurry, letting yourself be neither arriving nor departing, and letting that, too, go unnamed. No next version needed. No role to shed. Just this breath, already home.
Lol. (Gently, in the quiet.)
In one perspective I call this "space in between" life itself. That space between who I used to be (birth) and the person I am becoming (death). In another perspective the space in between is any one of the myriad of deaths and births in throughout my life thus far. I've come to know my life as a series of deaths and births for sure. And each one continues to be as sweet as the last in how it shapes me, no matter what pain or loss has to be experienced. It's all a part of it.
Now at 65 I can hold grief in one hand and incredible joy in the other at the same time. I've learned to live in the unknown. In the unsettled. In those so many situations where I perceive the threats to my very becoming. They are after all, my teacher. It really is quite amazing of an awareness. I am grateful.
Most of all I keep in mind this life-changing piece of wisdom that was shared with me. I remember it when times get extra tough, especially when I think I will never fully become.
ALL THE STEPS TO GETTING THERE
HOLD ALL THE QUALITIES OF BEING THERE
i take great comfort from rilke’s advice to “be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves”
I really needed to read this. Thanks!
This is exactly where I am and you said it so tenderly and softly. Thank you. ❤️
I am feeling seen. Thank you for sharing this beautiful essay.
I guess it took me longer to believe I am in between, and this article planted me there. I feel 2 ways about this. I don't really feel like I ever arrived at the "Who You Were" other than I never settled into anything I could call myself, but partitioned myself more into "Who WE were" as entities, always curious, always dividing my energies, never settling into any one thing. My life has not suffered because of that. As my mother used to say, "You're changeable as the wind." I am married to someone who is 11 years younger than I am and he anchors me and all my endeavors, and I entertain him, he says his life has never been more fun.
I do feel in between regarding getting old. My family was very vain, that's what was important enough to them, they were all pretty people, Mother was voted prettiest woman on campus, my aunt won beauty pageants, my uncle looked like a blend of Rock Hudson and a tall Mel Gibson, my sister was always pretty and sought after, perfect bikini body and first born. In my younger years I still had plenty of boyfriends. My brother was shot down in Viet Nam and= Vanity was first priority.
Second priority was to find a career or profession. Of course this was the double edged sword of insecurity. If I didn't meet their vanity criteria, then naturally it would follow: who would hire you? But I think it was a blessing in disguise. I could not be happy working a 9 to 5 job, even though I have done it many times for survival.
I love the myriad of experiences I have had In my life, and people I have met, more than most people. But now, at 73 years of age, my grief lies in my body limiting me from feeling I have enough time to do anything. The world in front of me is limitless, I am the limited one. That's why I started writing. I never knew I could and this is my curtain that covers the in between stage.
My mind is still good , better than ever (even though I forget stuff a lot), but writing helps with that, too. The vanity ghosts still continue to haunt me, but I guess I am just coming to terms with that because I have learned as I get older that I can do just about anything, body allowing. Most of those people have died, they aren't pretty anymore, and I don't have to hear it any more.
So now I am ready for a different kind of beauty and have started on my open path again, in a different way. I lost a lot of weight, smaller than most of my adult life and although I'm pissed off that I am not going to regain visual beauty from that (Damn ghosts!) I am so confident of my capacities otherwise. I just need to change my interpretation of beauty because it doesn't matter any more (or maybe a teensy-weensy bit).
Hmmm, this might be a good post. thanks for the inspiration!
Ohhh that middle space. It’s confusing being in that liminal space where things can be crystal clear one second and opaque the next!
I find this insightful for me to learn to just be me. How cool to transform and not tell anyone! Thank You.
This was beautifully written. I’m definitely feeling like I’m in that in between in this phase of my life and learning to embrace and love the person I am now and not obsess over what I want to be. Growth and healing from the beliefs you’ve always told yourself is hard and I’ve tried to have grace with myself as I grow. Thanks for sharing ❤️
Thank you, this was a message I needed at exactly the right time.
Your gentle words are reassuring. I’m in this in-between time, about to move away from a not-so-good relationship to…who knows what? After reading this, I feel like I don’t have to worry about whatever comes next. Thank you! 🦋
Wonderfully written!