I’m addicted to taking walks along the Los Angeles River. They energize me. I see beauty even amidst the evidence of hard living for unhoused people who call this area home. Within my ambulatory addiction, I’ve realized the walks are giving me something else besides peace of mind at a time when I need it. Perspective.
There’s a disconnect between the words ‘Los Angeles River’ and the idea those words conjure in my imagination: Soil-rich banks, rapids, the roar of water, the scent of earth and a canopy of protective trees…nothing but nature.
Not this river. At least not this part of it. This section of the 51-mile Los Angeles River (which winds from its headwaters in the Santa Susana Mountains to Long Beach) is concrete, with right angles and equal parts graffiti and scars from its removal. Depending on the depth of the drought, there’s a trickling stream or a flood of muddy water.
I think about the fact that there are reasons why the river is this way (flood control among other reasons), and in the next breath I remember there are reasons you and I are the way we are. We’ve had experiences, events and decisions that have brought us to where we are today. You and I are sentient beings, though, and we hold the capacity to think and learn and feel. We can work to impact the flow of our own lives.
I asked myself why I enjoy walking here, in the starkness of the city. There are a few reasons:
Proximity & relative privacy.
The sky can be astonishingly clear or heavy with mood.
There’s no vehicle traffic.
The path that parallels the water has markers every tenth of a mile to keep analog track of distance.
Wide open spaces.
It’s not a mountain top or a cave, but the austerity helps me think.
Consultation.
What The River Is Teaching Me About The In-Between
I consult the river for guidance. Some days, I see a river that keeps moving forward even when it’s just barely there. Occasionally, I see it as a force. Most often, it’s somewhere in-between.
I’m in-between right now too. Between jobs, careers, paths. Maybe you are too, or someone you love is. I learned that that in-between space, in the world of psychology, is called liminality.
Dictionary.com defines this as a state of transition between one stage and the next, especially between major stages in one’s life or during a rite of passage. The concept of liminality was first developed and is used most often in the science of anthropology (the study of human origins, behavior, and culture). In a general sense, liminality is an in-between period, typically marked by uncertainty.
Even in the in-between, I’m grateful to have agency over my life and to have a relatively healthy body and mind. I’m grateful I can walk. I’m grateful I can see the magnificent sky. I’m grateful that I can appreciate the stripped-down beauty of this space. I’m grateful for the innovative engineering minds who created these surroundings as a solution to a devastating problem. I’m grateful for beautification efforts.
This realization, though, caught me by surprise: I’m grateful for my ability to breathe into this liminality and appreciate it for the gift that it is. I’m facing what is and accepting it. Not as a sentence or an ending. Just, here. As it is. Now. An in-between space holds the notion of a past and a future, and it brings me solidly to the now. It reminds me that I’ve been in-between before, and it’s giving me occasion to re-examine what has brought me the most peace and energy and momentum in my past in-between spaces. The headline that encapsulates all of them is Action. Here they are. Maybe they’ll be of use to you.
• Exercising outside in nature
• Community
• Creative activity
• Novelty
• Nutritious food choices
• Good sleep
I notice the speed of the river. Some days I catch sight of a bubble and marvel when I discover we’re moving at the same speed, effortlessly ‘being’ in perfect time. Today, it’s moving faster than my three to four mile per hour pace. As I watch the river experience its own ever-present liminality, I’m relaxing into my own.
If you, like me, are here, remember to let nature be your guide. Everything is impermanent. Whether we are at mile 0 or mile 51, we’re all working our way to the open sea… and we’ll get there. In the meantime, I think it’s our job to find what energizes us and to embrace the waves of change until we find ourselves in a new kind of flow.