Interstices

Sometimes in that twilight space between sleep and wakefulness a voice speaks to me of things I need to learn. Recently it transmitted a word I haven’t used since my days in academia.

“Interstial! Pay attention to the stillness and silence between words and sounds, to the spaces between the grains of rice.” I was pleasantly lulled by the initial abstraction, but that last bit about the rice roused my mind, which then began to fiddle at the edges of the metaphor.
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When identity is shaken, what takes its place?

The topic of identity keeps popping up in conversations with people in different areas in my life, which signals to me that it’s time to pen my current thoughts on it. Two questions drive this investigation. The first from friends, peers, and colleagues on the brink or in the midst of transition, wondering what will happen to their identity when they find themselves without institutional attachments to define their place in the world. The other comes from within: When we loosen our grip on identity, what takes its place? This is the story of how I journeyed into the Place of Nothing and found my center.
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Entering good silence

For months now I’ve been yearning to go on a silent retreat. In the coming days, with my husband’s departure for overseas work, and his inspired encouragement on this strange longing of mine, I’m seizing the opportunity to live in more silence than I ever have before. Despite my strong Read more…