Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Liminal Space

As the title of my post suggests, I find myself in a period of transition.  As a Lutheran seminarian from Canada at seminary in the Midwest United States, I am not unacquainted with the liminal space of transition.  Yet here I am here once again, and it is not the same.  

As my 'About Me' will suggest as I get around to editing it, I am just beginning the final preparations to embark upon my year of internship in Oslo, Norway.  Not only am I exploring what it means to be an intern for the year, I am exploring what it might mean to be a pastor in the Lutheran church, as well as what it is like to be immersed, surrounded, and encircled by a congregation that is very international, in a country that I have only ever visited for a week five years ago.  And most of all I am exploring, pondering, and trying to figure out to what and to where God is calling me.  

It is all extremely exciting and frightening at the same time.  

Therefore, I selfishly write this blog for me as a time to reflect upon, well, whatever happens!  If you know me and are wondering what I'm up to this year, I hope this will keep you updated.  If you don't know me and somehow stumble upon it, I hope you enjoy it.  If you read it and connect with it, please, write, respond, dialogue!  

To begin, I post something that I will likely never post again:  a poem.  

I am not a poet, nor have ever been a poet, but I recently had the pleasure of making one of my favourite trips, a 24-hour drive from the Midwest back to Canada.  I have made this drive with my family countless times, but this time, with Norway looming on my horizon, during the stint from 3-8am, driving across the plains of Saskatchewan, snippets of this poem were written.  Whether it is literal or figurative, I don't know.  It is no great piece of writing, but it is from where I am coming, and a fitting start.  

Liminal Space

Awakened at three
by the lulling motion
which comes to a stop, 
the door opens
and the 
refreshing breeze
sweeps in.  

Petro Canada,
Tim Horton's,
I crawl behind the
and drive North,
always North.  

To my right,
the deep blue
is already
with a lighter blue.

The chaotic sea
hangs inverted
above my head;
or perchance
it is I
who hangs
above the chaos.  

For the
is more expansive
than the land
which stretches out
before me
behind me
for countless

The dotted trees
of the horizon
both hide away
and point to
the prairie homesteads.

The majestic
wooden grain elevator,
rising out of
the sea
of grass,
is the only thing
to scrape 
the sky.  

I turn off my lights.  
They are or
no use
the sky
too bright.  

As I
the inhabitants
come out
in welcome.  

The swift fox,
the loping coyote,
the bounding jackrabbit,
the cattle
the sea
of grass.  

Yellow heads
mingle with
red wings.  

The familiar 
of the 
is replace by
the passing
of the

A mixture
of French,
First Nations--
the names of towns
flash by
and bring forth
long dormant
in my mind.  

Moose Jaw,
je pense...
I think...

is awakened
within me
in this 
liminal space
the dark of night
the light of day.


the ray 
of sun
the swirling clouds
the spell.  

Until next time,
The Shoeless Seminarian


Crimson Rambler said...

Welcome to the blogosphere, shoeless!

Erik said...

Ah, blogging, good times, I look forward to reading about your Norwegian Travels.

Liana said...

LOL, I thought you were trying to keep this anonymous??
Make sure you keep posting! I'm very nosy.

Chorus said...

Yay for your new blog!! I blog pseudonymously, though I suspect it won't take you long to figure out who I am, if I haven't told you already.

(((you))) (that's a hug, by the way)

Crimson Rambler said...

I have tagged you for a meme on my blog! Enjoy!

retta said...

Hey L we are thiking of you. They cancelled the Texas Longhorn game due to hurricane Ike....Now..what are Longhorn fans suppose to do on a Sat? Lace is getting married in Nov......Kash is working long hours and is doing lots of projects on his house... and I am still subbing. (You would think teaching 30 years would ne enough!!!) Love ya Loretta