The Space Between Worlds
4:45am. I sit suspended between darkness and light, witnessing the earth's daily resurrection. The sun edges toward a new day - a day with no mistakes in it yet, as Anne Shirley whispered to me through childhood pages that still carry the scent of possibility.
Here, in this liminal hour, I am surrounded by the planet's most ancient conversation. The wind speaks in whispers I've forgotten how to hear during daylight's urgency. Frogs offer their throaty chorus - a sound older than human worry, older than the stories I tell myself about what I should be doing instead of simply being. Crickets weave harmony through the darkness while birds still dream in their nests, trusting in the light to come.
In this threshold space, the veil is thin. I can see what I usually can’t, I can hear that which is usually difficult, that which I don’t always understand. It’s a sacred space. A space where time stops and clarity begins.
How often do I rush past it? How often do I miss the profound gift of existing on this space rock suspended by nothing but cosmic grace, spinning through darkness while harboring life in forms beyond counting?
There's something deeply comforting in recognizing that no matter how chaotic my inner world becomes—no matter how many mistakes today will eventually hold—the crickets will still sing their evening prayers. The frogs will still call to each other across the water. The birds will still greet tomorrow's light. Despite my struggles, these rhythms continue unchanged. Despite the chaos, peace can still be found.
I find myself asking: isn't this what life actually is? Not the endless rushing toward tomorrow or the anxious replaying of yesterday, but these moments of recognition? The ebbs and flows, the breathing space between what was and what will be?
The question that sits with me now, as real as the calm air breathing lightly across my face: How can I stay present enough to receive this gift? How can I slow down enough to feel the weight of gratitude for existing at all, for having consciousness capable of witnessing cricket songs and feeling moved by the space between darkness and light?
Perhaps the answer isn't in the trying, but in the returning, like coming home to myself, remembering that I am already exactly where I need to be.
Lovely. ❤️