This past month I’ve felt suspended between worlds and the end is not yet in sight. I didn’t believe it would take six weeks to recover from a hip replacement. I was up and walking hours after surgery, and I’m walking easily and pretty much pain free using a borrowed cane. I got off pain meds but the pain came back, so I’m back to taking Naproxen … and cannabis. I didn’t appreciate I’ve had major surgery; it seemed so matter-of-fact, so common. I also have made it a point not to think about 

Day after day I feel tired and unmotivated. I imagine all my energy is going toward healing. I’m not interested in reading, crafting, writing, or binge watching anything except what I see out the window or sitting in the sunlight on the porch. Concentration is difficult. Most of the time I don’t feel like socializing with a lot of people, only animals. Thankfully, many live here. 

I’m between traditional and astrological Lughnasadh with no idea how I want to celebrate it. I’m between starting and finishing an implant, starting and finishing projects. I still can’t feel parts of my thigh. In addition, the bus needs work done so it can pass inspection so I can drive it, but it’s been two months and I have yet to find anyone to do the work. It’s one more item on my growing list of things that are not getting done.

In the past four years, I have spent so much time in the in-between, I no longer fight it as fiercely as I once did. Whenever possible, I accentuate it even more by spending time in my hammock chair, meditating and watching storms.

This in-between is a void, a hole in my life, and a source of tension from non-action. The wheel is turning, but I feel as if I am standing still. It’s a challenge to be content and to trust the process.

I’ve learned in my crone years these times in the in-between are opportunities to practice the art of living in the moment. There is a tension, a restlessness, associated with existing in the mundane, the ordinary, the sameness. There can also be joy in embracing the moment with all its discomfort. The magic is when I can accept its incredible gift – an opportunity for rest and gratefulness – while the universe lines up my next step.