I got up this morning, well before dawn but too late to drive down and join friends in Berkeley for their coven’s Sabbat.  So I walked out into the Laguna de Santa Rosa area,  just east of town.  It turned out to be a wonderful way to observe Ostara.  Morning is a liminal time, being neither night nor day.  I ended up at another border, between clear air and the morning mist that thickly covered the ground further out in the Laguna.  I stopped at the edge of a field: grasses and wild stuff on my side of the fence, a field of mustard on the other side.  It was a region of borders in many senses.

The equinox itself can be seen in a similar way.  A moment on the threshold between a shift in cycles from where darkness predominates, to where light is the majority partner.  

We Pagans in a sense are among the most focused on the liminal of the world’s faith traditions.  At least we British Traditionalist Wiccans are, being neither purely immanent in our spiritual focus, nor purely transcendental.  We stand with a foot in either perspective, as is so clearly expressed in our Dryghten blessing.   The sacred circle is itself liminal, not of this world yet not of the world of the Gods, but a threshold between them both.  

This sense and feel of liminality as a particular way of relating to the Sacred was particularly profound for me this morning.  As is so often the case, the deeper meanings resist my ability to put them into words.  And that’s fine.