There are things you learn and things you lose when you don’t have a home. When you are detached from family, friends and foundations. You lose the ability to plan anything long term. Uncertainty stops being just a shadow ahead of you, blurring your vision beyond a distance. It becomes a close friend, a bird on your shoulder singing songs of infinite possibilities and probabilities. Reminding you that anything can happen, times are fleeting, undefined and that you can be sure of nothing in the in-between places. Uncertainty. You revel in it. You loathe it. Because nothing is really clear in the in-between places.
The in-between places are more than just a statement of location, they are a state of mind. An unwillingness and inability to commit fully to anything because you don’t know where and who you will be in the next day or month or week or second. In the in-between places, you do not lose yourself, not really; you are simply confronted with the ineffably powerful realisation that there is no true you in the pedestrian sense of being. Some cannot accept this. Your feet may falter and you may balk once it dawns upon you. But you may also simply accept it as it is. If you do accept it, you will probably do so with all the grace of a drop of rain falling into a fast flowing river, you will go with the flow. The currents in the in-between places are turbulent, the waters heave and churn choppily, currents coursing toward the unknown relentlessly.
This is almost always true, for both for you and I.
I’ve come to both love and loathe the in-between places. Unsurprising, this strange sentiment. In the in-between places, uncertainty, contradiction and confusion conflate to confound in profound new ways. In the in-between places it is possible to both love and hate someone; many people; all at the same time; in equal measure. It is possible to be both sure and unsure, kind and cruel, victim and villain, helpful and harmful, angel and devil, friend and foe. It is possible to be yourself and more. Much more. In the in-between places, there is darkness but as is always true of eyes in darknesses, there is change, mutation, adaptation. Whether this is a good thing or not remains to be seen.
If anything, in the between places, I have developed a keener sense of what I need to really be satisfied, happy. I’ve been forced to confront all the multiple aspects of my personality and identified those without which I can do. The 13 Alchemists have been tried and 10 of them have been found wanting. They are no more. There have been mistakes made and lesson learned. Some errors can never really be rectified but such is the nature of life and living. And if anything can be said of Certainty with any measure of certainty, it is that life certainly marches on with its own inexorable certainty. Even in the in-between places, this never stops being true.
I like to think of the in-between places as an aspect of super-reality. An extreme training ground of sorts for all the other uncertainties and fears and anxieties and doubts that come with becoming more and more yourself; with life and living and loving. Because if you can make it through the amplified amorphousness of the bulk of the in-between places and onto a firm plan and path, then maybe, just maybe, you won’t completely lose your head when life (as it is wont to do) pushes you off your path and back into the borderlands of the in-between places from time to time.