Latine laziness

An open door in the middle of the forest and a cat sitting in its threshold.

This is not exactly a dream, but an image that once appeared in my mind's eye in that rare and glorious state of consciousness called 'daydreaming'. The image represents some of my greatest interests: liminality in literature, cats, and beauty captured by the lens of a camera.

Door expecting to be knocked in Angoulême, France
Liminality is a concept developed by anthropology, and refers to the previous state in which one doesn't belong yet to another state one wants to achieve, it's the moment of a crucial step being taken. The liminal is esentially represented by doors and thresholds: when we cross a door we leave a space to enter into another. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, by the English poet S.T. Coleridge, begins in a wedding (a liminal moment in life):

'It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin.'

This uncanny and full of beauty story starts in a liminal space: the ancient mariner belongs not to this world, but is condemned to repeat his tale to the living ones. Where does he appears? in a liminal place, 'The Bridegroom's doors' which are 'opened wide.'

The forest is a liminal space par excellence, the locus where the initiation rites have taken place since immemorial times. Where does Young Goodman Brown's -a dark tale by Nathaniel Hawthorne in which liminality dwells under every line- journey takes place? In the forest.

Forest near to the banks of the river Charente, Bordeaux, France

But the concept has widened its scope, and everyone can transfer a personal idea of liminality to objects, creatures, moments... I do consider cats as liminal creatures -little domestic deities that love to stand in thresholds, taking care of the humans: Don't slip in the bathtub!-. I cannot remember where I read that cats are psychopomps, figures that stand between this world and the other.

In 2012 I was very ill; the rest of the time I didn't spend working I was in bed, having not a drop of energy in my body, every single part of it in pain, my brain floating in a haze. Clyde, the eldest cat I live with, was lain by my side the whole time, with his oblong shaped head near to mine, as a sentinel. When I was diagnosed and the treatment began to improve my health, I realised that Clyde had been operating as a psychopomp, waiting patiently to whatever the outcome of my illness could had been, waiting perhaps to accompany me in the final crossing we all are due to.

Clyde Chesnut Barrow, a cat with supernatural powers, as every cat

There are liminal moments as well, thus, dusk and dawn are the borders in the daily cycle of time. I am a dusk person, in the same way I am a cat person, being silence and darkness a balm for my senses, as for these tortured, over-sensitive characters masterful created by E.A. Poe.

Finally, I am keen on cooking. I employ in the kitchen the time left from studying literature written in English, my job as a content creator, and the contemplation of the four cats I live with plus the sheltered ones which stay in my place waiting for a definitive home. Carefully and enthusiastically, I measure ingredients, peel and chop vegetables, knead smooth doughs, fry, stir, boil, stew... and have a glass of wine. Cheers! À votre santé!