Interim Time
It was March 1 yesterday and here in Minnesota we still have four to six inches of snow on the ground. But temps have been above zero for a week or so and more importantly – or at least more inspiring – the birds are singing. Which means that while winter isn’t quite done, spring is most definitely on the way.
This is one of those in-between times, where you feel the already-but-not-yet quality of the seasons.
Sometimes it’s not the seasons, of course, it’s life. In between one relationship that has ended and what may come next. Or in between a job that has drawn to a close and something that is not yet clear. Or in between the place you’ve lived for years and the one you will soon call home.
These in-between times – sometimes named interims or, slightly more beautifully, interludes – can be somewhat exciting as you lean into a future that doesn’t exist but may soon come to be. But they can also be difficult, as they simultaneously demand patience with the present and invite a certain restless about the future.
Which is why, I think, I appreciate John O’Donohue’s counsel to “hold your confidence.” He doesn’t offer that encouragement lightly, as he also acknowledges how hard it is when, “The path you took to get here has washed out; / The way forward is still concealed from you.” But rather than get swamped by uncertainty or getting lost in anticipation, O’Donohue counsels that we focus on the work and situation and people in front of us, trusting that the more we invest in what is here and now the more prepared we will be for what is to come.
Good advice.
“Interim Time”
When near the end of day, life has drained
Out of light, and it is too soon
For the mind of night to have darkened things,
No place looks like itself, loss of outline
Makes everything look strangely in-between,
Unsure of what has been, or what might come.
In this wan light, even trees seem groundless.
In a while it will be night, but nothing
Here seems to believe the relief of darkness.
You are in this time of the interim
Where everything seems withheld.
The path you took to get here has washed out;
The way forward is still concealed from you.
“The old is not old enough to have died away;
The new is still too young to be born.”
You cannot lay claim to anything;
In this place of dusk,
Your eyes are blurred;
And there is no mirror.
Everyone else has lost sight of your heart
And you can see nowhere to put your trust;
You know you have to make your own way through.
As far as you can, hold your confidence.
Do not allow confusion to squander
This call which is loosening
Your roots in false ground,
That you might come free
From all you have outgrown.
What is being transfigured here in your mind,
And it is difficult and slow to become new.
The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the new dawn.
John O’Donohue, from To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings
Thanks to my colleague Carla Dahl for sharing this poem with me.
Thanks—this speaks to me! I think I might have to read more of this man’s work.
Thanks for sharing this! It mirrors the conversation that I had with my Spiritual Director yesterday. Sweet serendipidity! I love John O’Donohue – he always speaks straight to my soul.
Again, Dr. Lose, your words are embedded with theological overtones–this time of a realized and future eschatology.
For the place I am in, this means so much right now. The spirit works and I simply give thanks. Thanks to you for this poem!
Amen!
How lovely to land on this posting. We are so in the “interim time” and to have John O’Donohue say it so beautifully encourages me to keep my feet on the path, and my heart clear and open. Thanks for your own reflection on the “in-between times”.