on longing & liminal space: a reflection, a poem, & a blessing
“What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?”—“Harlem” by Langston Hughes
The Dream
I keep thinking about this dream I had recently. I was climbing a steep mountainside without any ropes or harnesses. I didn’t know how or why I had gotten there but was aware that I had been climbing for a long time. I felt like I was hanging by a thread, my muscles fatigued. I knew if I didn’t keep hanging on, I would fall to the depths below.
I could die. I have to keep going, but when will it end? …I can’t think about that right now. I have to keep going.
I reached up to find a place to grab onto and then realized I couldn’t maneuver from that position. I had to backtrack, returning to my former position, before trying something new. From the new position, I extended an arm and was shocked when my hand took hold of the top—a flat, sandy surface. I could see part of a beach and hear voices of people at the top.
After all this time, when I almost didn’t make it and there was no end in sight, I was this close to reaching the top.
Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the dream was over. I was awake.
Liminal Space
I don’t think about persistence often because generally, I have tended to overstay, to hang on too long. I can see this when I reflect on jobs, relationships, communities, and ideologies that I eventually left, long after I began to wonder whether it might be time to let go.
The spiritual journey is often described in terms of letting go. Surrender is a cornerstone of spiritual growth. And yet, some things—our values, our deepest longings, our authentic selves—are worth holding tightly when everything else falls away. It is one thing to work towards a concrete goal, but it is quite another to set out on a journey with only a vague idea of where you might be headed.
The term “liminal space” originates from the Latin term “limen,” which means threshold. In liminal spaces, we stand at the threshold, no longer where we were but also not yet where we will be. I’m beginning to think that as we grow in spiritual maturity and awareness, we start to feel like we are always in liminal space because we are always caught between who we were and who we will be. In these spaces, we often resist the uncertainty, the lack of a clear path and control, the absence of achievement or some sense of forward movement.
Despite (or maybe because of) the discomfort that is inherently part of liminal space, the falling away of what used to be and the inability to move forward with plans and a sense of control positions us to find clarity around what remains when everything else falls away. While it is often first defined by all that we do not know, the stripping away of what was invites us to see what we do know.
- Who do we want to be when we begin to lose the temporary or incomplete roles that have defined us?
- What values will anchor us when the time comes to move forward in a new direction?
- What core desires have made their home in our hearts, serving as points of connection with all of humanity?
While there are many types of threshold moments throughout a lifetime, I’ve been thinking about dreams deferred, which Langston Hughes described so beautifully. (As an aside, Lorraine Hansberry’s play, A Raisin in the Sun, builds on Hughes’ work in a captivating, story-length exploration of the dream deferred. I highly recommend it!)
The in-between place of having received the vision for what we hope for but do not yet see can be simultaneously comforting and exhausting. What a gift to have a sense of vision and purpose, and what a burden to carry something so precious that we know we will never stop striving for it, even though we have no assurance that we will ever see it come to pass. How very human it is to need moments of encouragement that serve as breadcrumbs on the trail of the road less traveled!
We are shaped by our longings, our vision, and our steadfast commitment to working towards a dream that was given to us by a Love we can’t always see or understand. Still, when we press on, clinging to all that is too precious to abandon, our grasping and fumbling is sometimes rewarded with moments when our hands find solid ground that leads us to an oasis where we are invited to rest in the deep knowing that none of it was in vain.
I believe—oh, how I hope!—the process of longing, dreaming, and working toward a vision given by Love has a way of shaping and refining us, stripping away all the layers until we arrive back home at the true self—the only place where we can discover, at last, that we are loved without condition.
Once as I was describing one of my deepest longings to my dad, he reminded me that those who hunger are called “blessed.” The hunger itself is the blessing as it draws us forward, ever oriented to the Love that promises that one day, we will be filled.
“You have forgotten that the longing itself is the answer to the longing, that in the very crying out for the Holy One, the Holy One is pouring herself into you.”
—St. John of the Cross: Luminous Darkness by Mirabai Starr
Poetry
feast: a promise full, filled
You put this hunger in my belly,
then promised me a feast.
Sometimes the hunger gnaws
as though it might consume me
and I wonder if I will ever be satisfied.
I have these moments
when time slows down
and suddenly I see
the banquet table set before me.
I hear You say,
“Take. Eat. Remember.”
I remember.
I remember what it was like
to lose my appetite
and miss the satisfaction of
filling an empty belly.
I remember how it felt
when the hunger finally returned,
jolting me awake so that I came alive,
searching for something of substance.
I remember this feast,
ever present but only filling
when I take the time
and have the courage
to partake in the meal
You’ve prepared,
embracing and then letting go
the voices that question
my worthiness of such lavish love.
This, too, is resurrection.
Spiritual Direction
Spiritual direction is a slowed down, sacred space where we take the time to name and honor our deepest longings, our hopes, and our grief. For more information about spiritual direction or to schedule a free introductory Zoom call, click here or email me.
Blessing
May your deepest longings be honored and held in love, reminding you of your connection to all of humanity. May your soul remember that, as Mirabai Starr says, “the longing itself is the answer to the longing, that in the very crying out for the Holy One, the Holy One is pouring herself into you.”
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