between two shorelines

hi friends,

It’s hard to believe, but five weeks in Rochester have come to a close; in a few hours, I’m returning to Maine. My August is almost over.

For most of my life, I’ve known this month best as the time between the heat of high summer and the start of the school year, with all the anticipation (and all the angst) that accompanies such transitions. Ever since I began spending my Septembers back on the rock, that feeling of in-betweenness has expanded to become a literal ocean—a liminal space between two shorelines, separating two places I know as home but temporarily not grounded in either.

In many of my recent (yoga) classes, I’ve been speaking about the concept of liminal spaces—to consider how we can receive these in-between moments as transitions, yes, but more so as opportunities to notice and be with ourselves. Liminal spaces are unavoidable because, in the words of Michael Stipe, you “can’t get there from here,” and they are everywhere, beginning with the breath.

There’s the inhale, the exhale, and the pause in between. On any given day, I can’t tell you which is the most “liminal,” which is the beginning, the middle, or the end, which beat will be more potent, or anxious, or enchanting. All I know is I need to embrace its entirety to breathe fully, because it is only possible to know one because of its interdependence upon the other.

The middle [of anything] isn’t the space between things; it’s the world worlding itself,¹ so perhaps the real question is, how do we meet ourselves in this worlding?

With breath as with life, my work lies in my willingness to both surrender and keep going. My body will continue to breathe whether I am paying attention to my breath or not because it’s out of my control. What I can do, however, is have a relationship with the process of breathing. I can allow myself to be more connected, for the sake of connection rather than seeking a sense of completion, because the only thing you “get” when you breathe in and out is the gift of doing it again.

So rather than perseverate on August’s in-between-ness, I’ve tried to approach the month as a practice and my time here as one of wonder—to greet myself in each moment as something to savor, and an opportunity with which to engage. To treat this month not as a way station, but as its own space of transformation.

Neither Monhegan nor Rochester is a liminal space, but rather they are different pulsations of all that make me who I am, and it does me no good to wish I were in one when I’m in the other—because I am devoted to both.

We all have our liminal spaces, our Augusts, our oceans,  in between two shorelines that we must find the fluency to swim rather than merely tread water. And if you ask me, how is it going? Well, it’s a practice no different than the pesky, potent space that hovers between my pen and paper before I’ve written a single word. Some days are better than others, but it’s the one that I choose again and again.

I’ll be sending out Part Two of this newsletter tomorrow—all the ways I have enjoyed my August—(mostly) things I can only do in Western New York, but for now, I have to finish packing my car.

As always, thanks for reading!

xosew

upcoming… . ..

Yoga in the Temples of South India
with Vishali Varga, Vanessa Airey & Sarah Webb

June 25 – July 8th, 2026

Join me in this incredible opportunity to deeply immerse yourself in the experience of yatra, the yogic practice of traveling to the most sacred spaces in India. Sign up before Oct 12 for Early Bird Pricing ~ save $400.

every week… . ..

gathering (in grace) notes • writing circle

Begin your week in creativity and community every Monday, 7:30 - 8:30 am ET. Whether you already have a project whispering to you or you’re seeking a little inspiration, I invite you to join me.

We begin by greeting one another in the sleepy moments of the morning, then sit for a moment of silence before we write. Not sure where to start? Don’t worry ~ I always offer a poem and a prompt as a portal into possibility and discovery.

This is a free offering for all. If you find you are attending regularly and wish to make a donation to support the space, you can always buy me a book. register once, and the link is yours forever ✍🏻

lingering line… . ..

You’re walking. And you don’t always realize it, but you’re always falling. With each step you fall forward slightly. And then you catch yourself from falling. Over and over you’re falling. And this is how you can be walking and falling at the same time.

Laurie Anderson

1. Bayo Akomolafe