Liminality… I recall something about great story lines involving the edges and thresholds of things. The end of something and the beginning of something else. The change from one state to another. That crossing a line or approaching a limit, walking along the very edge between two states is where the real drama happens. And those line define life and death and light and dark and good and evil, as well as the stages in life, the line between genders, the separation between classes or orders.
I come to the end of a three week vacation, and it back to work. A new year, a new semester and a new start with new students. And I wonder and I worry and I survived somehow. All the while worrying that the darkness would engulf me… that I would be overcome with anxiety and depression and that inescapable sadness… And really, it did not happen. I stayed safely away from the edge. And really it was okay.
I worked with wood. With saws and glue and clamps and paint and stain… and I could do that for days and days and days. To sand something smooth and to shape it.
I painted and painted and experimented with color and with some method to get more depth out of the image.
And I ate food that I liked.
And a winter storm approaches… racing the morning traffic.