I'm feeling liminal

On travel and disorientation.

A cartoon

A thought

I am somewhere weird on the space-time continuum. We took a rare family trip and have just got back from two weeks in Japan. I’m not here, not there, unteathered.

Floating in the liminal I can ask questions out of reach on an ordinary day. I’ve been poked by a culture and environment very different to home - complex, beautiful and contradictory. This post may make no sense - I am trying to grab and save the questions before they precipitate out, accreted by the everyday.

What can be slower?
What can be imperfect?
How can I pause and drink more cups of tea?

How can I moderate my inputs?
If I read less, will I see more?
What if I let the news age without processing it?
What will silence amplify?

What would it feel like not to be hijacked by urgency?
What if I rested before exhaustion?
What if I worked at a pace my body could repeat tomorrow?
What if I chose continuity over intensity?
What if I separated motion from meaning?

What is an adequate life - without maximisation?
What does sufficiency look like?
What if I am useful without being indispensable?

What do my responsibilities look like, scaled to one human, one body, one place?
What does integrity and care look like, with limits?
What would it look like if safety and care were built into the world around me, rather than constantly managed inside my body?

This liminality feels like a moment when the noise has thinned a bit, and a smaller, quieter voice can be heard. I don’t want to rush past.

It also makes me reflect - in the bigger, wider world of global drama, this time also feels liminal. What questions can we ask now that we could not conceive of before?

Glimmers and sparks*

My glimmers for today are:

• Japan - everything, everywhere, all at once!

• Spending rare time with all my family at the same time.

• Returning to my Country, greeting my lizard, bird, wallaby, insect, tree and kangaroo friends, I did not realise how much texture and delight they provide my days.

• The smell of the cheese and jalapeno sourdough loaf I bought for dinner.

Li’l bean is your reminder to pause and ask: What are your glimmers for today?

From your friend and your small, steadfast companion,

*Drawing Li’l Bean helped me navigate out of a period of depression in 2023. A good friend 13, 595km away, helped, too, through a ritual of swapping daily glimmers via text.

A glimmer is a tiny spark of hope, enthusiasm or joy that lifts your heart. By helping me find three glimmers each day, she gently helped me see the joy and beauty already around me.

I’d like to share this practice with you and invite you to reflect on your glimmers for the day when you read this. Think of Li’l Bean as a reminder to notice the glimmers and sparks in your life. We’d love it if you would like to share your glimmers in the comments or by hitting reply (if you don’t like sharing publicly).

My cartoons grow from Ngunnawal Country, where sovereignty was never ceded. My respect and gratitude to Elders across time, those who have held, who still hold, and who will hold this Country in wisdom and care. May my small work walk softly alongside their long story of stewardship and belonging.