There is magic in the in-between places. We know the beauty of the world at dawn, as the light seeps in. The darkness retreats and our slice of this spinning planet is reawakened, refreshed with dew and new mercy.
We hover between sleep and wakefulness. From dreams we return to reality with rested minds and bodies. Some moments it is difficult to parse out where we are in that liminal space between sleep and consciousness. We long to linger in the state of semi-awareness before the day and all of its responsibilities come crashing in. Our minds rest while our bodies keep time, slowly returning us to wakefulness as night turns to day.
We also know the enchantment of dusk as the light slowly fades leaving a trail of glory in its wake. The skies streaked with violet, orange, and red. It seems most of the world breathes a sigh of relief and settles in to rest. It is during these hours, as the light dwindles, that crepuscular animals and plants come to life. They take advantage of cooler temperatures and protection from predators as the light dims. This time of day is their sweet spot, while much of creation winds down. During this magical hour, we see remnants of the sun’s light while the stars in the sky are also visible. Twilight is a time, not quite day and not quite night, much like dawn. We love these in-between times—if the number of photos of sunrises and sunsets on Instagram are any indication. Maybe we are fascinated because they do not fit into our either/or categories of day and night.
When we read the creation account recorded in Genesis, we notice that only day and night are mentioned. Dusk and dawn, stormy days, and solar eclipses are omitted from the story, not because they do not exist, but because that detail was not necessary to the narrative. How could one include all of the in-betweens we experience in the world and in our own bodies? We like either/or stories because they are easier to categorize in our minds. We don’t like the things that do not fit, that bleed over the edges of our neat containers.
In the creation account in the book of Genesis (1:9) it reads, ‘And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called “seas.” And God saw that it was good.’
God made the seas and the dry land, but we know that does not capture the full picture. What about the estuaries, swamps, and bogs which are not quite one or the other. We also have springs in the desert, water gushing from mountains, and tide pools—tiny worlds unto themselves.
These in-between places fascinate me. Years ago, I had the opportunity to paddle through a mangrove forest – a tropical wetland straddling the edge of land and sea. The intricate tracery of the branches created a dimly lit sanctuary from the tropical heat. We floated in the brackish water in search of the illusive seahorse. Miniature frys and fingerlings of the species found in open water find shelter here in this place, a nursery of sorts, that is not quite forest, not quite sea. Because of their ability to change color to blend in with their surroundings, seahorses are characteristically difficult to find, like searching for a contact lens that slipped from your fingers onto the floor. Seahorses belong to the only family of animal species where the male incubates and gives birth to young, sometimes up to 1,000 little fry at a time. As I consider just this one scene, I notice many components that defy categorization. A tree that lives in salty water, a male that hatches the young of a species, and a place on the ocean’s edge that cannot be classified as solid or liquid, but something in-between. Without these unique spaces we would not have the abundance and diversity that we find in open waters.
I wonder if our lives and our relationships would improve if we began to appreciate the in-between in our world—if we considered that often something is more than distinctly right or wrong. What if there was much that belongs in the in-between? The fuzzy grey areas are being revealed before our eyes in the debate over the reproductive rights of women. Insisting that abortion is always wrong has led to tragic consequences for women in America. Young girls are told they need to carry to term the child of their rapist, while Kate Cox, her life and future fertility threatened, had to travel out of her home state to terminate a pregnancy with chromosomal disorder trisomy 18. There are many such stories of mothers and babies who fall into a space that is not addressed by either/or thinking— a space where love and compassion need to inform the law. The absence of any middle ground, any grey area is perilous.
Could our conversations and interactions benefit if we let go of our either/or ways of thinking and embraced nuance instead? Right versus wrong keeps us siloed into two camps where we miss the beauty of what lies between. We miss out on the abundance and diversity when we fail to explore the middle spaces.
I think of the animals who share our planet. The fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and the land creatures as they are named in the Genesis account. Again, these words do not account for all living things. There are amphibians who have the ability to breathe in water and on land—frogs, salamanders and newts. The semi-aquatic hippopotamus, beaver, turtles, and crocodiles. There are those that defy the boundaries of what we call animals. The ostrich, penguin, and kiwi are birds who never share the skies with the rest of their species. In all there are 57 species of flightless bird who do not fit our ideas of what a bird is supposed to be.
There is a tendency in some circles to limit our understanding of creation and all its complexities to the distinct either/or designations as mentioned in Genesis. As a result, we miss out on enjoying and celebrating the complexity and uniqueness of the places and creatures that exist outside of strict dualities. We have misunderstood humanity similarly and have restricted all of the ways people defy categorization.
Indigenous communities have historically honored and esteemed those who did not fit into gender binaries. According to The Indigenous Foundation, two-spirited people (2S), as they are referred to in that culture, exhibit within them both a male and female spirit. “2S folks were often the healers, medicine people, and visionaries within their given community and they were foundational members of their culture. Much of this can be attributed to the ‘double vision’ 2S people are gifted with, being able to see both through the masculine and feminine lens.” Dr. James Makokis in his interview in Broadview Magazine mentions that that Cree word for the non-binary among them is tastawiyiniwak, which literally means “the in-between people.” Those ones who do not neatly fit into our categories, offer something rich and meaningful that adds to the diversity and beauty of the world, as do the in-between places in nature.
Can we accept and celebrate the ones who do not fit into the strict definition of male or female? Can we recognize that the creation account does not begin to encompass the diversity and in-betweenness that exists in the world and in us? I wonder if we are putting limits on God’s creativity and design when we try to fit everything into tidy boxes and either/or classifications. Instead of fearing what we cannot recognize and categorize, instead let’s celebrate those things, marveling in the expansiveness of the God of creation.
This consideration of all that lies in-between could be the way we heal some of the societal ruptures we are facing. We are so quick to perceive difference as a threat, rather than an example of beautiful diversity. When we recognize that there just might be merit to the views of someone on the other side of an issue, and move closer toward a nuanced perspective, our relationships and our society as a whole can be repaired.
