Category Archives: The Liminal Times

Threshold

http://marionjensen.com/2006/05 Threshold

There is a breath
that does not return to you—
not in the same shape.

It leaves
as mist,
comes back
a question.

Somewhere,
a curtain folds without wind.


You do not panic.
You practice
being a passenger.

The hallway tilts.
Names untether.
You’re not lost—
only momentarily
unlabeled.

There is a place
between the counting
and the gone—
sleep’s older cousin.

That’s where
the Gurney Moment lives.

It hums beneath the wheels.
You feel it like gravity,
not fall—
but surrender.

You are not outside it.
You never were.
Even stillness
has a center

that turns

R.I.P…Er, Ribbet


The Alaskan Wood Frog – Nature’s Frozen Wonder

Every winter, the Alaskan wood frog performs one of the most extraordinary survival feats in the animal kingdom.

As temperatures plummet, this small frog doesn’t burrow deep underground or seek shelter. Instead, it allows itself to freeze completely.

Its heart stops beating, lungs cease breathing, and brain activity halts—by all scientific definitions, it’s dead.

But it’s not.

Thanks to a natural antifreeze trick, it floods its cells with glucose, preventing ice from forming inside them. This sugary shield protects its vital organs while the rest of its body freezes solid.

When spring returns and temperatures rise, the frog thaws out—its heart starts beating again, its brain reactivates, and within hours, it’s hopping around like nothing ever happened.

A real-life resurrection… courtesy of evolution.

Pathlow

Ocotlán Pathlow

Everywhere I am
is where something
used to be.

The grass straightens
after I pass—
relieved,
maybe.

My shadow
is not a harbinger
but a promise
that light
is still trying.

The crows wait
until I’m gone
to reclaim the wire—
not because they fear,
but because
they’ve learned patience.

I take no offense.
I’ve been
the interruption
long enough
to know
it’s not personal.

The world doesn’t owe
acknowledgment—
only room.