The Quiet Witness in the Living Dream: Surrendering. Waiting. Watching.
Lately, my life has felt like I’m watching a movie, the scenes unfolding almost like a living dream. I find myself almost separate from the scenes playing out in front of me. The script keeps moving forward, but I’m no longer invested in the story the way I once was. It doesn’t hold my attention like it used to. I’m not caught in the drama or the plot. Instead, I feel like I’m sitting in the audience, watching characters moving through a dreamscape, but without any real attachment to the outcome.
I’m bored with the storyline. My mind has started to wander. If I was at the movies I’d be distracted and restless, checking my phone, just going through the motions of watching out of habit more than curiosity.
And yet, beneath that surface boredom, there’s something deeper happening. I can feel it. There’s a subtle shift, a quiet rearrangement moving through me that I don’t fully understand yet. It feels like a recalibration, as if my whole being is adjusting to a new frequency. Some days it feels like a soft hum in my bones, other days like a deep breath I haven’t fully let go of.
I think of this as the liminal space. It’s that in-between place where the old structure has already begun to dissolve, but the new one hasn’t fully formed. It’s not an easy space to inhabit. The mind wants to fill it with questions and doubts. It wants to find something solid to hold on to, some kind of reassurance that tangible progress is being made. But what I’m learning is that this space isn’t about pushing forward. It’s not about rushing to fill the gap. It’s about trusting that even when it looks like nothing is happening, everything is changing beneath the surface.
This in-between is not empty. It’s alive in its own quiet way. It’s a pause that holds a different kind of momentum, one that doesn’t need to be forced or controlled. In this space, I’m learning to rest with a soft heart and a quiet mind. To let go of the need to understand everything right now. To let go of the need to be entertained...or even horrified...by the story I used to be so invested in.
I think about how often we try to grasp for meaning...to manufacture the illusion of certainty...when all that’s being asked of us is to be present. The more I lean into this presence, the more I feel the edges of the old story fade away. I sense that the real work isn’t in trying to control what comes next, but in surrendering to the current of life and allowing it to move me wherever I need to be. It’s not about waiting passively. It’s about trusting the unfolding. Letting the new structure form itself, even when I can’t yet see what it will become.
For now, I’m here. In this in-between, witnessing it all with an open heart. Surrendering. Waiting. Watching. That’s the practice. That’s the quiet truth I’m living into today.
