in[spaces]between

there are spaces far and few between, and i usually feel stuck at the between. Both far and few, an inbetween space, and whatever happens - or could happen there.

A thing that feels so close to being fully manifested yet, cannot escape the festering build up of what is currently being brewed. Stuck in the momentum of what could happen, and what is going to happen, not quite wanting the happen to… happen. Manifestation of feelings(?); anxiety(?) metamorphosing into chest pressure. No pain, just uncomfortable pressure, enough to feel like you’re there, ready to burst, a slight grasp on reality while in the dizziness of disassociation. It’s a magical separation from where you are supposed to be, where you want to be, and where your soul holds you. A purgatory for the self.

I have an affinity with early mornings right after the sun rises. Open my window, let the morning air in. Take time watching the birds soar, not fly. The wind slightly picking up, the trees sounding like an applause for their performer, center stage. The air softly twirling through the window, slinking coolly down my back; simultaneously dancing through the birds spread out wings. No need for effort, just the want of something to carry it on, to swivel and dip on occasion. Either that be out of worry, or the ebb and flow that the wind naturally choreographs. Oh, to be carried by those same gentle transparent hands. The true master of being inbetween. To have the trees sounding an encouraging melody built just for my listening ears from the same gentle hands that guide. Watching the squirrels, fly up and down the trees, performing their own balancing act of dancing, easily performing a grand jeté pas de chat from tree limb to tree limb, the most practiced ballerina would also admire with wide eyes. Not even the neighborhood dog has lifted its head off of the pillow where it lays.

My love for early mornings, are like those who see the other side of a different morning, 12am-3am. Although similar, it’s just not quite right… maybe it’s the fact that it’s dark, things can go “bump in the night”. After all 3am is the witching hour. My lack of attraction to this early morning time could’ve manifested from way too many paranormal tv shows that I watched growing up in those mere hours, that then transferred to “Top 10 Scariest Creepy Pasta Stories” on YouTube channels as an adolescent. To the constant feeling of something behind me that truly never goes away once introduced, especially in the dark.

In my early mornings, no one is awake, and those that are typically have something to do - which is be away. even then, when awake, I am also away. Away dancing with the birds, and leaping with the squirrels. Singing songs with the trees while listening to the wind, our composer. The specific solitude that you’re able to sit with when the sun is rising. The world has a heaviness from the mid-night; a grogginess that comes with still waking up, barely beginning, but still starting. A morning that comes with the feeling of staying up all night moving through the haze from the previous day, into the last night, now at the new morning. The sky also low and heavy and grey, waiting to be broken up by the sun to find between, a blue sky.

When that feeling passes, and the morning is done. Let it settle into your skin, then into your mind. Carry the inbetween bliss with you, into the rest of your day that happens, when your “real” day begins and the feeling of inbetween has gone. being there, and sort of around there, and sort of away from there; always somehow right between.

https://karmanjakah.bandcamp.com/album/ancient-skills-ep