The liminal spaces in between
(Originally written on December 4, 2024)
Location: above the sanctuary at Tanaman restaurant potato head.
Setting: I just finished the vibration sound therapy in the Sanctuary. It smells like rain here and fresh flowers.
I just got out of the sanctuary feeling sleepy and like I took a nap filled with lucid dreams.
Where did I go that last hour?
Laying on a waterbed with lights and sounds taking over the space, I leave the physical world if only for a few moments.
The physicalness of my being starts to wither away, my itchy skin, I notice the twinge of the “pins and needles” the teacher mentioned before we started. The soreness from yesterday’s pilates class all seem to fall into the floor below me.
The shamanic teacher takes us to another place with her sounds, the songs of birds, Oms, primal noises bellowing from her belly.
Lights start to flicker about, and soon I realize what she meant when she said it could be jarring for people who are sensitive to light.
And yet, I still lay there waiting for “something” to happen.
As others wiggle about to find comfort, I hear the sounds of the water beds sloshing about. I find my eye mask and get more comfortable as my body adjusts to the floating sensation.
I go deeper. And from that point forward, time seems liminal.
The combination of feeling weightless paired with sound and vibration take over me. I rest into it, moving away from the thoughts in my mind to just let them be where they lay.
Without force, my soul seems to float into another space. There’s no destination, I’m not the one driving this time. But I guess when you look at it closely, there is still a part of me that knows where to lead us.
I’m not really sure what happened in that room. Some of the visuals made sense at the time, some will be left and forgotten in the room with the hope that they come back later in life as a little signal.
It’s hard to find the words to explain the places your mind goes to when you’re guided with meditation and allowed the freeness to just be. Quiet the mind, let what comes up to rise to the surface. Just for it to slowly fade away when the teacher invites you to come back to your body.
Those moments of separation from mind and body, those are the ones that people liken to chasing that silly dragon.
You can’t recreate it, but when it happens, you know. And you embrace it as much as humanly possible.
Some people use vices to get back to the dragon, only needing to ingest more to meet him face to face again.
But sometimes, it’s easy to get back to that space in between by just laying there and letting it find you.
It is a sanctuary for a reason, a place far from the sounds of the street, people yapping about, and a safe haven away from your thoughts.
The entrance fee varies, whether monetary, spacial, or through sweat and tears.
I always want to go back to it as soon as I feel it once again. Like an old friend you see so seldomly, who welcomes you home with the deepest of hugs and most insightful of memories.
I will see you again, dear dragon. Hopefully soon. But if not, I totally understand.
