Liminal spaces - where something ends, and something begins *Sticky post*

What is liminal space?  It is a moment, a threshold, the space between. A curious, intangible, location of fluidity and movement. A time of waiting. Where transformation occurs. It's the moment before we fall asleep and the moment between sleeping and waking; a place of no boundaries, with no solid reality. The space between light and dark, day and night. A doorway that connects two states of being. That is the space in which I create. A moment I continually grasp for. Sometimes I feel my fingertips brush it's ghostly form and am flooded with ideas, inspiration, and hope. If I'm lucky I can stay there long enough to capture some of those thoughts on paper, be it words or drawings, but it is always fleeting. A moment that passes no matter how tightly we try to hold it, because it must pass. We are not meant to live in between worlds. We live our lives barely noticing these shadowlands. We move through them almost constantly, and yet sometimes we lin

Tales of earth and sea : part one - SALT

A tiny droplet of water became a pool. A pool of tears and salt. Tears of the ocean and salt of the earth. A woman rose from that swirling, watery pool. A woman made of earth and sea. It was the end of summer. A crow moon. When the turning tides bring winds from the west. Wild, dark winds and tides, that sometimes bring other things too. The nights come quicker, and the sound of the roaring sea grows ever louder. The thundering echoes through lonely granite cliffs, and things beneath the waves begin to stir. Villagers lock their doors and shutter their windows against the storms to come. All except for one, where each night a candle still burns on the windowsill. Waiting for what they know must come. Black clouds part briefly, and illuminated by the glow of the moon, she emerged from the sea. Whispering waves lamented her name, calling her home to the lands below, but onward, she moved. Feet stumbling on rocks that gently shift and sway in the ebbing waters. Soft sand


Stepping closer, she noticed a curious shimmer that seemed to be coming from behind the furthest stones. The field was empty, not so much as a stray sheep, or crow could be seen for miles, but she didn't feel alone.  She could feel the stare of eyes upon her. Hear the deep, unintelligible whispers echoing around her. Their unfamiliar breath on the wind. The setting sun broke though the heavy cloud in places, casting a harsh yellow beam of winter light across the stone circle. The pale coloured monoliths appeared as crouching figures, faces turned to the sun. She looked again, and wondered if perhaps a tiny fire burned at the base of the rock. The air seemed hazy, and moved as though marbled with woodsmoke, though she could smell nothing but the damp, cold earth beneath her feet. Cautiously, she moved among the stones. Lightly brushing each in turn, resting her palm against their rough exterior in acknowledgement of their ancient presence. Hopeful that she was welcome he