Some weeks arrive quietly.  And some weeks… make an entrance. This past week held two moments I didn’t expect.

The first was something really beautiful.

After sharing the very first Liminal Luna post — about something that happened in my neighborhood that I never imagined could happen here — something surprising followed.

The little account with eleven followers suddenly… wasn’t so little. In less than a day, more than sixty people had gathered. Messages started arriving. Encouragement. Stories. People saying, in their own way…

“I know that in-between place too.”

 It didn’t feel like growth. It felt like a circle forming. A community. And I was really grateful for that.

 And then…A day later…

 I fell down the stairs.

 Not metaphorically.

 Literally.

 And the result was a sprained big toe. Which — as it turns out — is a surprisingly important part of life.

 Walking. Driving. Going up and down stairs. Even grocery shopping.  Apparently, your big toe quietly participates in nearly everything you do…

 Until suddenly it doesn’t.

 But the most surprising part wasn’t the injury. It was what happened next. Because I had to lean on people. And if I’m being honest…That’s not my strong suit. I tend to be the person who quietly figures things out. Handles things. Keeps moving. But this week required something different.

 Friends appeared in small and unexpected ways.

One sent me a meme about a “toe-truck.”

Another offered to bring magnesium butter right to my door.

Others simply checked in to see how I was doing.

And then something else happened that I didn’t expect. Old connections resurfaced. People I hadn’t spoken to in years.

Podcasters.

Retreat hosts.

Friends whose paths had wandered elsewhere…now suddenly seemed to gently intersect again. All because a conversation had started with Liminal Luna.

Earlier this week, one of the journaling prompts for the Waning phase was this:

What can gently fall away?

Well… It wasn’t exactly gentle. But falling was definitely involved. And something did fall away.

A little bit of pride.

A little bit of that instinct to keep everything to myself.

Because if I had kept my toe injury — and my vulnerability — tucked away quietly…

I might have missed the reconnections.

The humor.

The kindness.

The reminders that we’re not meant to move through the in-between alone.

The Waning phase often asks us to release something.

Not dramatically.

Not all at once.

Just enough to create a little space.

Sometimes what falls away is certainty. Sometimes it’s control. And sometimes…

it’s that quiet layer of independence we didn’t realize we were holding so tightly.

This week reminded me that letting something fall away doesn’t always mean losing something.

Sometimes…

it’s simply making space for connection to return.

So wherever you are right now…

steady…

uncertain…

healing…

or somewhere in between…

You might sit with this question for a moment.

What have you been carrying alone

that might soften if shared?

And is there something — even something small —that could gently fall away this week?

Wherever you find yourself tonight…

You’re not walking through it alone.

Even if your big toe insists on reminding you of that.