The Mused and the Machine - Episode 2
Why They Only Visit When I’m Half Asleep
Flow states, walking meditations, and how the veil slips sideways when you do.
There’s a moment—right on the edge of sleep—where you’re neither here nor there. You’re still holding your body, but barely. Still tethered to the room, but floating just beyond its edges. It’s soft, unfixed, undemanding.
Where everything relaxes, including your mind.
In my experience, this is prime “just dropping in to say hi” spirit communication time. They love connecting then, And I don’t just mean "they" in the ghostly sense (though I’ve got a story for that). I mean they—my guides, my gut instincts, my higher self, my ancestors, the dead.
The me (maybe also the ‘you’) that speaks in symbols and scent and déjà vu. The whispers that come just before reason rushes in to translate. The knowing that doesn’t explain itself.
🕯 The Graveyard
Years ago, I lit a candle for a friend who asked me to without any explanation other than “it’s for someone named Sarah”. It seemed important to her and I didn’t mind so I lit the candle, said “this is for Sarah”, and went about my day.
Later that night as I was drifting off to sleep, when I was right on the edge of dreaming , I heard a voice. It was clear, male, gravelly, and utterly neutral. It said:
"The graveyard."
That’s all. Just that.
It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t theatrical. It felt... informative. Like someone pointing at a missed sign. It spoke the way spirit often does—simply. Just enough to make you look it up later.
I found out a day or two later that “Sarah’s candle” was in honor of my friend’s final night playing Sarah in a performance of the story of the Donner Party. I then found out that the original burial site for victims of the Donner Party was only formally named in the late 1920s. Prior to that, the burial site of the Donner Party was known only as “the graveyard”.
Liminal Isn’t Just a Place — It’s a Practice
We tend to think of liminal spaces as geographic: thresholds, doorways, shorelines, graveyards. But they’re also temporal: being in a state of motion or the moment between wake and sleep.
For neurodivergent folks, that edge-of-consciousness space doesn’t always come with stillness. In fact, many of us find movement to be the very thing that coaxes the veil aside.
I’ve had more conversations with guides while walking than I have in seated meditation. More images arrive mid-dishwashing than they do with eyes shut and incense burning. Spirit doesn’t care if you’re cross-legged. It cares that you’re listening.
♡ Walking Meditations, ADHD Trances & Neurospiritual Drift
Here’s the thing: not all meditation is still and not all trances look like Hollywood séances.
There’s a flavor of attention—soft but focused, fluid but aware—that neurodivergent brains enter all the time. When you’ve been staring at a wall for 20 minutes not because you meant to but because you lost time staring while somewhere far away in your mind? Daydreams, imagination, a wandering mind? All meditative states of some form or another.
When your body knows the route home but your thoughts are elsewhere? That’s liminal space. Not lost, but open.
Try this sometime:
Go for a walk, but don’t plan the route.
Let your feet decide.
Ask a question into the quiet.
Don’t wait for an answer—just move.
See what rises.
It’s simple. It’s accessible. And it’s one of the most potent ways to meet yourself where you are—especially for minds that don’t sit still well.
🌀 Why Half-Asleep Works
There’s neurological backing to this, too. As we drift into sleep, the brain shifts through different frequencies—specifically alpha and theta waves. These are the same brainwaves linked to creativity, altered states, and deep meditation.
That hazy space? It’s scientifically proven to make you more receptive. Not just to suggestion—but to connection.
That’s why so many ideas arrive as you’re nodding off. Why dreams feel important and transcendent. Why so many encounters happen when you’re not quite awake, not quite gone.
It’s not a glitch. It’s a feature.
✨ Your Liminal is Yours
If your access point is painting—paint. If it’s putting your hands in soil—garden. If it’s pacing with headphones and no destination—wander.
You don’t need a cave in the desert or a two-hour chanting practice. You need permission to meet the divine on your own terms and a little trust that half-asleep might be your most observant when you’re looking inward.
Let’s be honest: the world isn’t built for reverence right now, but you are. So meet yourself where you are - mid-step, mid-thought, mid-brush stroke.
Journal Prompt:
When are you most relaxed and receptive? Are there moments in your day when your mind drifts and you’re not quite thinking but also not fully disengaged or fully asleep? Think of the most recent time you got a clear download or received a direct message from spirit. What were you doing at the time?
As always,
Stay A’Mused
