Welcome to this practice on liminal space,
The place between life's no longer and not yet.
Today's practice uses guided imagery,
A somatic container practice,
And a brief art prompt.
Before we begin,
You will need something to write with.
Something to write or draw on,
And a small container,
Such as a bowl,
A nest,
Or a small jar,
Or something with a little weight to it,
Such as a crystal or a small stone.
We will begin with a centering practice to bring you into the present moment,
And I will then guide you through the ball of light pranayama practice.
From there,
We will begin our deeper inquiry into the space between your life's no longer and not yet,
Designed to help you meet the part of you that is still forming.
This practice is for anyone in the space between one season and the next.
It is for anyone who suspects that the not knowing itself might have something to teach,
If you can find a way to stay presenced in it with a little more comfort.
Let us begin.
Find a comfortable seat with your feet flat on the floor or legs crossed.
Whatever feels most supported for your body right now.
Let your hands rest softly in your lap,
Or let one hand rest near the container or stone you've gathered.
You may close your eyes if that feels comfortable,
Or let your gaze soften towards a space in front of you.
Begin simply by noticing your breath.
Not changing it yet,
Just noticing the natural rhythm of the inhale and the exhale.
Notice where the breath is moving in your body.
Is it staying high near the collarbones?
Or can you feel it moving down into the heart space or the belly?
Begin now to breathe a little more deeply.
Notice the gentle expansion on the inhale.
A brief pause,
And then on the exhale,
Slow and complete,
Take another brief pause.
Inhale for a count of three or four.
And exhale for a count of five or six.
Continue for a few more rounds of breath.
On your next exhale,
Imagine a warm ball of light at the base of the spine.
And as you inhale,
Imagine that ball of light moving slowly up the front of the spine.
As you exhale,
Imagine it moving down the back of the spine.
And this time continue without a gap between the inhale and the exhale.
Simply follow the ball of light as it travels its gentle circuit.
Now,
As the ball of light moves upward along the front of the spine,
Imagine that it acts as a quiet magnet,
Gently gathering whatever you are holding onto right now that has heaviness.
And as it moves down the back of the spine on the exhale,
Imagine it creating space.
Or ease.
Imagine it creating a place for a little more lightness.
Continue for a few more rounds of breath.
You might notice where the ball of light pauses in the body,
It may not reach the crown of the head,
And that is perfectly fine.
Simply observe where it wants to linger and allow the direction to shift with the breath.
Again,
Continue with the breath.
Now,
As the ball of light moves upward and into the heart center,
Allow it to pause there.
Continue to allow your breath return to natural,
But simply observe this ball of light and imagine that it begins to expand.
Moving out through the arms and legs.
Out through the hands and the feet and the crown of the head until this ball of light surrounds you fully and completely.
Within this space,
It is safe to pause and reflect.
From this grounded,
Spacious place,
Gently reach for the stone or the container you gathered at the start of this practice,
And feel its weighted presence.
Here,
I invite you to bring to mind a transition that you are in the middle of right now,
A place in which an old habit or identity or role has ended or is ending,
And the new has not yet taken root.
Notice what feels heaviest about being here in this in-between.
It may be fear.
It may be grief.
It may be the discomfort of simply not knowing.
It may be a desire or longing for clarity about what comes next.
Let this heaviness surface.
Notice if you feel its weighted presence in the body.
If you notice a weighted presence,
Simply observe its location and sensation.
And now,
Take a full inhale.
Feel it expand gently through your chest.
Pause at the top of the breath.
And on the exhale,
Imagine breathing that heaviness into the stone in your hand or into the space of your container.
Again,
Inhale.
And exhale,
Allowing the object to receive this heaviness from you.
Notice whatever remains.
Continue as needed for a few more rounds of breath.
Follow at your own pace,
Breathing the heavy thing into the stone or into the container with each exhale.
When you feel ready,
Gently place the object aside and allow the breath to come back to natural.
Let us acknowledge that in yoga philosophy,
This is a practice of pratyahara.
This is not dismissal of that which feels heavy.
You have not gotten rid of anything,
But you have simply given it a place to rest that is not just inside your body for the length of this practice so that you have some mental space to consider something else.
And now,
Notice if anything feels different now that you've created a little more room.
Take one more breath here.
And now let us move into the art prompt.
You will need your journal or whatever materials you prefer.
The art prompt is this,
Create an image of a cocoon.
For a little context,
There is a liminal space inside of a cocoon during which the caterpillar and the butterfly do not exist.
The space,
Instead,
Is filled with gelatinous goo.
In life,
We tend to resist the goo.
It can be extremely uncomfortable.
In the space of the unknown,
The nervous system reacts.
In fight,
We plan,
Strategize,
Or research,
Which takes us from the present moment.
In flight,
We may numb ourselves or distract,
Often through consumption.
Consumption of food,
Alcohol,
Social media,
Shopping,
And so forth.
In freeze,
We simply do nothing and move along as if the effects of the transition do not exist.
Whether you react and fight,
Fight or freeze,
You are taken out of the present moment.
And it is in the presence of this liminal space that wisdom exists.
So as you create the cocoon,
Consider the container or structure that will allow you the support you need to feel.
To pause.
And to reflect.
And then.
Inside the cocoon,
Create the goo.
Let this goo be luminous.
Not gory or scary,
Not something to hurry past.
But let it be alive and full of potential,
Even if nothing about it looks finished or clear to you yet.
Let color and texture do what words cannot reach.
Does this cocoon have light inside it?
Does it have movement?
Is it lighter or heavier than you expected?
Let it be exactly what it is without rushing it towards an answer.
And as you work,
Hold these questions lightly.
What is forming in me,
Even though I can't name it?
What is the texture or movement of this?
What would it mean to trust the process before I find the shape?
And what is asking simply to be witnessed right now rather than resolved?
Let the materials and the creative process itself do the knowing.
When you're done,
Let the image speak.
So when your work feels complete,
Step back and observe your creation.
Spend a few minutes in quiet dialogue with the image and simply write,
Using stream of consciousness,
With your non-dominant hand if that feels available.
Write from the perspective of the image.
You might ask,
What needs more space or attention in order to form?
Or what do I need in order to stay here a little longer without rushing towards resolution?
Or,
What can I do to make this space more comfortable?
As you explore the wisdom in your artwork,
Let yourself be surprised by what your art already knows.
And remember,
There's more than the wisdom of the image.
That image came from inside of you.
That wisdom is yours.
As we close today's practice,
A friendly reminder.
The not knowing you are holding right now is not necessarily a problem to be solved or a feeling to be resisted.
It is simply a liminal space.
It is very natural for that space to feel uncomfortable.
But you do not need to see the whole shape of what is coming.
Trust that there is wisdom in this in-between place.
Thank you so much for being here.
As we close today's practice,
The goodness in me honors the goodness in you.
