Every minute of each day sees the start and stop of something—teeny-tiny or mega ginormous—in our lives. We might start a new book, reach the end of one, start a new love affair, or take an old one to a new place. We begin anew at the inhale and end at the exhale. We might tingle from the tips of our toes all the way to the top of our crown from a smile and a wink from lanky and his come-hither flutters or we might cry a river at the sight of his rigid back walking way. Such is life. It’s an endless series of beginnings and endings.
The reasons behind and within a decision to end and begin can carry the weight of sleepless nights or it may come in a moment of anger or whimsy. The choices are sometimes ours to make but there are also moments we sigh the deepest form of resignation and accept what is dealt with hopeless despair. The moment we have coveted since birth might pass us by on the wings of love, because our life is aflame with nonsense and fear thus preventing us from embracing what we have yearned. We might fall over at the loss and give way to a grief so heavy it drowns, but we might also find a passion so strong in our spiral downward we are reborn. Such is life.
Some of us hate both beginnings and endings with infinite and equal passion. Some covet only the start while some prefer the end. There are a few who embrace the in between of transition—where the light is blindingly bright—more than starting or ending. I’ve heard the moment between the two is where the explanations to rhythm and reason hang like apples on a tree. Answers to the why of the goodbye and the purpose of hello are free for the taking if only the outreached hand can grab and hold on tight while the light in our heart stays bright. It’s a place of knowledge but it’s as elusive as Atlantis and vague as walking through a cloud of déjà vu.
In the darkness of the almost known is where we can find a purpose, bury a loss, ditch the past, or catch a wave to a horizon in the distance that looks a lot like a beginning. It is the moment we are most vulnerable and the most fearless. At the rise of the inhale, a person can find grace and harmony in its entire glorious splendor. It’s brush of a kiss on a blustery day. It’s fleeting, but oh, the rush of tenderness, the breathless but sated physical all over body sensation, the clarity of purpose, the all-knowing, and full surrender to the possibility of what will be will be, can render you motionless. Some say it’s spell binding. Yet, the place where all is known is not without the risk of uncertainty of what is to come. A decision is required to propel you own self forward. The decision to start or stop, to never know the up or downside of either, is the state of in between, where infinite beginnings and endings collide. It’s where we spend every moment of every day. Such is life.
And so it is with me and my place of in between. The writer in me is letting go of what is comfortable for what is unknown and yet to be discovered. I hesitate, even tremble, but I have the grrl’s guide to help me as I follow the music of my passionate pursuits.
Grrlguide is here in all its splendor, but it’s ending is blending into a beginning with only promise of something yet to be written.
I live for this interlude. What about you? Where do you like to be, the start, the end, or the place in between?