I’ve been thinking a lot lately about endings and beginnings.
How something has to end for something new to begin, like the long dormant trees sprouting tender new leaves or the sunset that denotes the completion of another day.
Endings and beginnings mark the passages of our days, our years, our decades. In between the endings and beginnings lies the liminal space of I Don’t Know.
This is where I am right now.
I can sense that something in me, in my life, is coming to an end. I trust this intuition and the other signs telling me it is so.
In astrology, I am entering my second Saturn return—a significant life transition. Numerologically, I am in a 9 personal month, which is all about conclusions. And, when I looked back at the card I pulled in January for this month’s theme, it’s Rebirth.
I am exactly where I am supposed to be, and that doesn’t make this time of transition any easier.
I recognize the feelings that are coming up for me. They remind me of when my first marriage was ending. There’s both physical and mental discomfort—an itchy and constraining quality, like a wool sweater that’s shrunk two sizes. You can’t wait to tear it off your body, but there’s nothing else in your closet that fits any better. (I imagine this must be what a snake feels like before shedding its skin.)
To soothe the unease, my mind is indulging in reminiscences, finding comfort in nostalgia and sentimentalism. As appealing as these memories are, I know from experience that going back is not the way forward.
Unlike with my first marriage, I don’t know what ending is in the offing. Perhaps it’s that I’m not ready or that I don’t want to know what’s ending … not yet.
If I’m unsure of what’s ending, I certainly don’t know what beginning awaits me. This is what my coaching mentor Martha Beck calls Square 1 of the change cycle. Her mantra for this time is “I don’t know what the hell is going on and that’s OK.”
It is OK and it sucks. My ego doesn’t like change because uncertainty feels like death. In a sense, that’s exactly what’s happening.
While my mind devises all sorts of plans to ensure certainty, I know there is nothing I can do but just be with the uncertainty and discomfort, and let go of my need to know what’s next. Being in this liminal space is a practice in trust. There is no doing when I don’t know—only listening to the wisdom of my body and my soul. Only they know the way forward.
This liminal space between endings and beginnings is a hard place to be if you are really allowing yourself to be there. If this is where you are too, my heart is with you.
Note: If you are looking for something that may help you navigate this time, I highly recommend the book Transitions—Making Sense of Life’s Changes by William Bridges.