She knew with it the luggage would be over the weight limit. There was no minimizing its presence in the suitcase. The large cast-iron karahi bulged under the layers of clothes she had carefully swaddled it in. My mom had one major problem left to solve.
The jars of wiri wiri pepper sauce and mango achar, sealed in their thick masking tape, had already been weaved into the nooks between her clothing. The suitcases were zipped up and padlocked, except for hers. At least there was electricity as she finished packing. My mother was thankful that it wasn’t one of the scheduled blackout nights in our part of Georgetown. The state of my mother’s bedroom-ground zero for where our family had been packing five large suitcases for the past month-was relatively calm, considering this was the eve of our departure from our homeland. our house had been gleaned of its remaining furniture, knick-knacks, linens, and kitchen wares-all the things we could not carry. When she was done praying for our safety on the journey, she told us, ‘When we get to America, nothing changes. It would be our last family prayer in Guyana. We sat on the bed, holding each other’s hands with our eyes closed-like we always did in this ritual-as my mother prayed.
Because we were older, fourteen and fifteen, my brother and I understood the urgency of the moment. My little sister was only six years old at the time so she would remember nothing of the weightiness of that night. Kennedy Airport, New York City, my mother called us into her bedroom for a family prayer. CC BY-NC-ND.ĤOn the eve of our 6: 30 a.m. And second, embracing patience with the world, with neighbor and with self through intentionally exercising restraint on judging.© Grace Aneiza Ali. First, establishing a posture of not simply waiting, but spending time wondering and imaging both what can I learn from this present time, and how might those learnings prepare me for the future. What would it look like for us to lean into rather than just trying to get through the liminal times and experiences of our lives? For me, what I have found most helpful are the lessons I have learned from the Advent season. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out of control that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.” (Shout out to my soul brother Fran McKendree for bringing Parry’s work to so many of us through his music!) Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places.
She goes on to suggest, “I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing and the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid the void where the real change, the real growth, occurs for us. But the void in between? Is that just a scary, confusing, disorienting nowhere that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible?” Parry aptly names how many of us try to navigate the liminal times in our lives. Sure, the old trapeze bar was real, and that new one coming towards me, I hope that’s real, too. In Danann Parry’s ‘Parable of the Trapeze’ she gives a masterful description of liminal / in between space: “I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a “no-thing,” a “no-place” between places. A time which is framed in waiting for the coming of the Christ child. Religiously, Christians who subscribe to a liturgical calendar, amidst their own season of waiting to regather in person, will begin the season of Advent. Scientifically, as hundreds of thousands continue to contract and succumb to the deadly Covid 19 virus there appears to be real hope that a vaccine may be availed in just a number of weeks. Politically, the United States is attempting to make an “orderly transfer of power” from the 45th President to the 46th. Liminality, welcome to our present reality! Whether it be political, scientific or religious we presently are in a time where much of our lives are in a place of in between. The dissolution of order during liminality creates a fluid, malleable situation that enables new institutions and customs to become established.” (Wikipedia) “In anthropology, liminality (from the Latin word līmen, meaning “a threshold”) is the quality of ambiguity or disorientation that occurs in the middle stage of rites…During a rite’s liminal stage, participants “stand at the threshold” between their previous way of structuring their identity, time, or community, and a new way, which completing the rite establishes…During liminal periods of all kinds, social hierarchies may be reversed or temporarily dissolved, continuity of tradition may become uncertain, and future outcomes once taken for granted may be thrown into doubt.
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