On the Threshold

Learning to carry what can’t be fixed

by Jennifer Nice on Sep 26, 2022 category Grief

Dear readers, it’s been a while. I’ve started this post more than once in the past few months but didn’t feel sturdy enough. Please be aware the following contains raw and possibly triggering content, especially for those who have ever experienced trauma. If you are not in a place of strength at the moment, you may want to consider reading at a later time.

Five months ago, my daughter’s boyfriend was murdered in a double homicide. My heart races as I write this, and my fingers feel clunky on the keyboard. Where do I even start? Maybe at the beginning of their story…I will never stop remembering that Griffin’s short and brilliant life eclipses the tragic and wildly unfair ending.

Vivian met Griffin at Chapman University in September 2019. She was a freshman who had been hired as a student phonathon caller for University Advancement. Griffin was a junior and a supervisor for the student callers. They started out as work friends. I recall Vivian would often call us on the 20 minute walk back to her dorm after her shift on Tuesday and Thursday nights. She was always buoyant and happy after work.

We first heard Griffin’s name in January 2020. He invited the phonathon team to his apartment for a party and Vivian decided to go, riding the Chapman shuttle bus over after her evening class. After that party, they played a cat and mouse game of mutual crush for a couple of months…and then March 13, 2020 happened. All the students were sent home, thanks to COVID erupting and shutting down the world.

Vivian and Griffin kept in touch all spring and summer via text and SnapChat. In August 2020, she moved back to Orange and into a house with 4 friends, where they settled in for online classes and college life in the pandemic. Griffin stayed at home in San Juan Island to work and take classes remotely, mainly because his apartment was Chapman apartment housing, and Chapman only opened up dorms that fall for freshmen to live in single rooms. During Fall 2020, their relationship ramped up to a long distance romance. When Vivian was home over the holidays, they FaceTimed every few days. Griffin finally returned to California in January 2021 and they became official. She called me the next day after he arrived and declared jubilantly, “He’s my boyfriend now.”

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My Heart Sees Your Heart

by Jennifer Nice on Mar 12, 2022 category Mid-life

About a month ago I arrived home from a week long yoga retreat in Mexico. Even as I write this, it chagrins me how my privilege is on full display, especially in light of world events transpiring. But allow me to keep going, as my humble aim is to be honest when writing about experiences in mid-life. Although our paths look different, the journey is universal. I heard on a Brené Brown podcast once that mid-life is an actual developmental stage in adults and it’s critical we’re aware of the changes and challenges facing us in this stage of life. And I would add, let’s be open about it!

The theme of the yoga retreat was “Embrace the Edge,” taught by Fiji McAlpine of Do Yoga With Me. I started doing online yoga classes on this website back in 2016 (thanks to a tip by my sis Molly) and Fiji quickly stood out as my favorite instructor. When the yoga retreat was advertised in the winter of 2021 for the following year, I needed a ray of light and hope to grab onto…something to look forward to, hopefully post-pandemic. Even so, making a reservation felt indulgent and maybe reckless, with the future uncertain. Yet a giddy anticipation bubbled inside me by the act of committing to something I knew I would probably, absolutely, savor.

Molly and I decided that yes, we should book our spots and go for it. It was the best decision.

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Stillness

by Jennifer Nice on Jan 23, 2022 category Mid-life

Welcome to January 79th, the endless month of the year! January has a knack of dulling the “new year” glitter and resolve in a matter of days….at least for me. While I’m not a resolution type person, I read this thoughtful article in the New York Times about ReSOULutions. This happened around the same time I was wearing a cloak of depression that I couldn’t shed, no matter how hard I tried. I pulled out every tool in my toolbox and while these tools didn’t hurt and probably helped some, I wasn’t getting the relief I was seeking. A blessing and a curse of my personality (an Enneagram 1) is my tendency toward action, toward improvement. But humans sometimes exhaust our reserves, and when we get to that point, we have choices to make.

That’s when I have to surrender. Usually the memo comes through my physical body, which makes my choice for me. The body doesn’t lie. Any kind of mental or emotional distress generally shows up as pain, illness, infection, fatigue, etc. Surrender isn’t giving up, it’s giving back. Giving back to health and wholeness. There is freedom in that, rather than loss. At least that’s how I’ve reframed it for myself.

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Traveling light

by Jennifer Nice on Dec 12, 2021 category Mid-life

This fall we headed to Boise to watch William run in a regional cross country meet. It was going to be a quick weekend, and I preferred to not sit in the car all day on Friday and Sunday with only one day of play in between. I’m a bit of a diva when it comes to avoiding physical aches and pains! So I booked a one way ticket from Portland to Boise on a Friday afternoon. William hitched a ride on Thursday with friends and Jason departed Friday morning with one of the dads. Lucky for me, that meant my luggage could ride in Jason’s car and I only needed to take my purse on the plane ride. The ability to move through security, walk through the airport, board the airplane, get seated – unencumbered by a roller board felt absolutely liberating!

When the plane landed in Boise, we deplaned down the stairs outside. Even passengers with carry-on bags had to “check” them at the gate because the overhead bins were small. Lots of people had to wait outside the plane while their carry-ons were unloaded. Not me – I sailed by the crowd and strode out to meet my ride. I felt so carefree, and yes, lighter.

What does it mean to travel light at this stage of life? It’s something I think about often. No one gets to mid-life unscathed. It’s part of the journey of being human. Although our problems and suffering are individual to each of us, the struggle is universal. By the time we reach mid-life, we are carrying around a backpack that is stuffed with experiences – the good, bad, and in-between. The ordinary and extraordinary. The successes and failures.

Sometimes, that backpack can feel mighty heavy. It’s up to us to pause from time to time and unpack it. Sift and sort and discard. Because if we don’t, the heft of that backpack can become painful, even unbearable, and negatively impact our wellbeing and those around us. They see us metaphorically hunched over and shrinking under the weight, and it’s usually a detriment to us and our relationships.

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Let’s grow: inner knowing

by Jennifer Nice on Nov 1, 2021 category Mid-life

I’ve been procrastinating writing this post for a while. It’s been an interesting, albeit gorgeous (as you can see from the photo) fall. The irony is I’ve had more margin and time to write since I’m job searching and not going to work everyday, but the words have been just tumbling around inside me, unable to to express anything coherent. So, please bear with me this month!

When I say interesting, I’m referring to the interior field trip I’ve been on and how it has played out with some experiences in my exterior life. The opportunities to strengthen my inner knowing have been relentless and persistent. So I’ve been paying attention.

Richard Rohr has explained that we live ourselves into new ways of thinking, rather than thinking ourselves into new ways of living. I have pondered what that means. He recommends “voluntary displacement” – get out of your routine, your group, your comfort zone, your little world. Any little effort that perhaps makes us uncomfortable and gives us new ways of seeing and helps rewire our brain. This is probably why I love traveling, especially to foreign countries, so deeply. When we sailed on Semester At Sea it was an endless string of discomforts along with the adventures, but I have never felt so alive. Alas, international travel doesn’t happen much these days, so I try to look for other avenues to “live” myself into new ways of thinking. This includes my inner knowing.

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Expectations, joy, grief

by Jennifer Nice on Sep 16, 2021 category Mid-life

Last month I was in Southern California to drop my daughter off for her junior year of college. Lucky for me, beloved friends I met in college still live in the area, so visits to SoCal always fill my bucket in more ways than one. After her work day, one of my friends invited me to go to an AKT class with her (she likes to try new fitness trends, of which there is no shortage of in Southern California!) I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’m always game for a new physical challenge, so of course I said yes.

When we arrived, the instructor “Chelsi” personally greeted me and was dressed head to toe in 80’s exercise garb, including “Let’s get physical” splashed across her bodysuit. I smirked inside, remembering how Santa gave me that Olivia Newton John album in 5th grade. Chelsi informed us it was 80’s week, hence her “costume.” The class turned out to be a super high energy aerobics class that kicked my butt. Waayy harder than the aerobics classes I took in the late eighties and early nineties…or maybe it’s just that my muscles are now 50 years old! She cranked the 80’s tunes for the entire hour and taught us (not so) simple choreography the last half of class. Even though I was sweating bullets and gasping for breath, a huge smile plastered my face the whole time. When the disco ball sprinkled its shimmery lights everywhere for the “last dance,” joy was literally bubbling up inside me. The novelty, the familiarity, the music, the endorphins, the zero expectations….all of the above made me feel giddy in a way I hadn’t for a very long time.

Joy truly does show up unexpectedly. We just need to be ready and receptive.

Earlier in the summer that was not my posture. At all.

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Walking into the unknown

by Jennifer Nice on Aug 8, 2021 category Mid-life

“The opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty.” – Anne Lamott

Walking in darkness is a metaphor used in many faith traditions. It means to keep the faith even when we can’t “see” the outcome. A few weeks ago I went on a solo hike at Cascade Head, needing nature therapy and movement to shake out some frustrations and fears. Cascade Head is situated near the coast and in the past, I’ve been lucky to hike it on clear days that afford incredible views of the ocean and the coastline.

On this day, it was sunny and about 70 degrees at the trailhead and within minutes I shed my sweatshirt, stashing it behind a tree. As soon as I emerged from the lush Sitka spruce forest into the prairie grass headland, the wind whipped up and the fog engulfed me. I trudged on, head down, hat pulled low and tight after the wind lifted it off my head once…pissed off for not keeping my sweatshirt, and feeling sorry for myself that I had to endure cold and uncomfortable hiking conditions.

As the trail steepened and my lower limbs grew weary, I kept looking up to the “summit” wondering how much farther. The fog sabotaged my visual efforts each and every time. I knew it was there but couldn’t see nor remember how close it actually was. Stubborn me, I kept going, misery lacing each step. I knew there was a lesson lurking somewhere in this hike. So, I plodded on and on. Once I read we must sit with our pain long enough to learn what it has to teach us. The fogged-in summit illustrated in sharp irony the present liminal space I find myself in.

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Live the questions to let go

by Jennifer Nice on Jul 1, 2021 category Mid-life

Letting go. Or as Elsa belted out in Frozen “Let it go!” How many times have we heard that phrase in our lives? Personally, I used to hate this phrase. Too simplistic. Too trite. And if I let go, that would mean I didn’t care. Which wasn’t true, usually. Let’s face it, it’s hard to let go, especially to something that has served us or benefited us in some way.

But when we find ourselves in liminal space, aka the waiting room, actively waiting (seems like a paradox) can actually help us. Letting go is a practice, not a “one and done” mic drop. Letting go can feel like a death of sorts when we release anything or anyone that we have clung to. It can feel painful, sad, weird, uncomfortable. It’s a loss of control. I have heard letting go described as self-emptying. Ponder that.

While the practice of letting go can feel like grieving, it helps widen our field of consciousness. Makes us more expansive. It creates space for newness. We can learn to cultivate an awareness and courage to recognize an opportune moment. It helps us get ready and stay ready for what is next.

Letting go provides us new opportunities, new learning, new ways of seeing, new relationships. Honestly, it’s the beginning of transformation.

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Forces inviting us into liminal space

by Jennifer Nice on Jun 1, 2021 category Mid-life

One of my favorite authors is Sue Monk Kidd.The first book I read of hers was The Secret Life of Bees, almost 20 years ago (and I highly recommend her newest, The Book of Longings.) Just before my 50th birthday this winter, I picked up When the Heart Waits, which she wrote in 1990 (I was a freshman in college!) well before she was ever famous. Here is the quote from the inside jacket, which compelled me to buy the book:

“I was standing on the shifting ground of midlife, having come upon that time in life when one is summoned to an inner transformation, to a crossing over from one identity to another. When change-winds swirl through our lives, especially in midlife, they often call us to undertake a new passage of the spiritual journey: that of confronting the lost self – our true self. They call us to come home to ourselves to become who we really are.”

Sue Monk Kidd, When the Heart Waits

Talk about synchronicity! The notion of liminal space keeps popping up for me in unexpected places, even when it’s not called that. Kind of like when you buy a new car and you notice all of a sudden it seems every other person is driving the same vehicle.

The chapter “Crisis as Opportunity” provided the most succinct explanation for why we find ourselves in liminal space. Personally, the word “crisis” signals danger or stress for me. I really don’t like the word. But Kidd points out that “a crisis is a holy summons to cross a threshold. It involves both a leaving behind and a stepping toward…a separation and an opportunity.”

This photo was taken in Neskowin a couple of days ago. Neskowin is a little beach I’ve been visiting since I was a young kid, but this past weekend we happened to be on the south side of the creek. It was my first time on the south end of Neskowin beach in 30+ years and it felt synchronous to discover this keyhole in Proposal Rock. I’m captured by the imagery of this photo for crossing a threshold.

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Blooming when Broken

by Jennifer Nice on Apr 29, 2021 category Mid-life

The inspiration for this title sprang from a phenomenon I observed while hiking through Tice Woods at Rotary Nature Preserve a couple of weeks ago. I feel so lucky this nature park is a 5 minute walk from my house, and I regularly indulge in “forest therapy” on the trails here. However, there was a massive ice storm in our area over Valentine’s Day weekend and hundreds of trees splintered and many toppled completely under the weight of the ice. My beloved nature park, along with other parks in our town have been officially closed with all the downed trees. The last month I have ventured over there a few times, carefully picking my way along the trails that are unobstructed; I just couldn’t stay away from my neighborhood forest.

I noticed these brilliant snow-white blooms on this fallen tree and they stopped me in my tracks. How is it possible for a tree to bloom when it’s downed? How does something grow when it’s supposedly cut off from its life source – the roots nourished by the rich earth? I’m no botanist, or even remotely gifted in science, so instead of trying to figure out the answer, I simply marveled and pondered. Nature often provides me solace and a reminder that all living creatures are resilient. Just like this fallen tree, we, too, can “bloom” even if we feel broken.

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