Minimal Liminal

Breathless, I am at the edge. I move deep into the knowledge of my body, here in the ecosystem of my biochemistry I am one.

Step, beat, sink into movement, roll against the rhythm, this river of sound carrying my limbs in fluidity.

As I dance around the others, my individuality seeps away. Now we are the body, we are creating originality. During this chaotic phase of the ritual of becoming in community, I do not think “where does my next step land, how does my right arm move”, I am just the temporality of our relationship.

A phrase of movement between us becomes a new language, hardcoded into the ancient memories of my bones and ancestors, rearticulated. We are alive. We are an expression of divinity. A momentary set constellation of the constant transformation of matter in the universe. This is the liminal space, where I move with all my desire into chaos, into the ability to transform.

Time cradles us within its transcendental body and we become the microbial bodies of a universal poiesis. I rise alongside you and the dopamine rush of our combined harmonies. This is the space where my humanity feels deeply rooted in mortality, in the sanctity of a moment and yet also a necessary thread in the weave and web of eternity. The tiny fruiting bodies of mycelium, the networks of nerve endings woven through the fascia between my muscle and bone, to be in connection with, to move into the space of the unknown.

Is this a dream imagined by the cosmos? By sentient dust settled into dancing along the edge of sorrow, the sharp cut of joy, a void of breathless abandon falling off into the dark around us. Does it matter only that I am with you, here, that I allow you to witness the truest authenticity of my being in this moment? That by moving through this liminal space we become god dancing the universe into being?

We are the flow state that carries time to a new place. And I want to create this new culture of reality with you, the quantum atoms of our bodies desiring entanglement again. The cells that grace my palms have somehow been missing the gentle curve of your face for the past eternity. What a gift to give them the pleasure of brushing against one another once again.

This liminality begs not of you an escape from the body, not a numb - but rather a movement deeper in.

Deeper into your breath,

into your lungs,

into your being,

here,

with us,

with me.

I stand on both sides of the boundary, I’ll cry for the broken heart of your enemy.  My eyes are the colour of the skies at both dusk and daybreak. This is liminality, death and heartbreak. So break open the drum pattern of your heartbeat. Laced with the terror that seeps from mundanity like blood pressed from a stone, it is only by falling forward arms open into the unknown that we can release our sanity and shake the rules of civility unatoned.

Breathless, I am at the edge. Space in the open air. Vibration a whirlpool of sound. A breath of wind, love, and we are caught and cascading in the grace of butterfly wing symmetricality. 

Celina’s Blade - 14/11/22