Perspectives

As I look forward to 2021, different emotions assail me. Everyone can agree that 2020 has been a sad and frightening year. The whole world discovered it was in a battle. And the battle continues. But now we are over the shock and have girded our loins, determined to win.

We dreamed of building our own mountain settlement, of designing and crafting solid log homes that could become family retreats. We found a mountaintop, plopped down our savings and cajoled a local bank to give us a loan and began clearing roads. We discovered a company in Michigan that hauled in huge logs and assembled them with a crane.

While contemplating a quiet (as in pack my bags and slink off, maybe forever) disappearance, I came across a piece about Monhegan Island in the Travel section of the paper. As I read about the fierce beauty of the cliffs and the muted stillness of Cathedral Woods, a solution presented itself: a solitary retreat.

As seems to be the case with everyone, my thoughts have been consumed by an organism we cannot see, touch or feel until it makes us ill, or kills us. Somewhere in the fear and frustration of understanding that my life will be different for a while—in ways I already dislike and many I have yet to find out—came a thread of thought I’d like to share.

My quiet home wraps me in a cozy blanket. I meander through the rooms, breathe in the solitude and remember the craziness of those busy, busy years when every second was planned out, long “to do” lists never quite completed, much like my stack of magazines. I wonder how often my son felt shorted of my attention.

Because Time is linear by our current concept of understanding, our actions are as well. Imagine placing one foot in front of the other on the path of our lives. We are limited by the time it takes to perform any task. We are bound by our bodies that need food and sleep and other forms of care. We are driven by our motivations, the importance of our daily actions beyond what our bodies need to stay alive and functioning.

If you look up liminal space, you’ll find a passage by Richard Rohr, an author and theologian. His reference and encouragement are clear in this passage: …where we are betwixt and between the familiar and the completely unknown. There alone is our old world left behind, while we are not yet sure of the new existence. That’s a good space where genuine newness can begin.