The Magic and Messiness of Liminal Spaces

I’ve been analog for over two weeks. Off the grid, exploring Alaska by land and sea. No work. No emails. No news or scrolling.

Instead of screens, there were stunning vistas of mountains, forests, and streams. Sightings of two grizzlies, a few moose, a herd of caribou, and most fun – over twenty whales bubble net fishing.

And now the return. To the comfort of my own bed. To the familiarity of my own routines. To life as usual. To tasks and grocery store runs and catching up to the best of my ability.

In this transitional time, I have changed. Calmer. More grounded. Very much aware of the wonder of nature and breadth of the world beyond my normal view. And as I reenter my day-to-day life, I am more aware of what I missed as well as what I did not.

I find myself between vacation mode and everyday life—between Alaska and Indiana, wonder and routine. I am in a liminal space and I can choose – what to bring forward d with me, what to pick up again, and what to either add or eliminate.

A Bit of Explanation

My work over the past three decades in organizational change and personal transformation was what prompted me to explore the concept of liminality. Even if you don’t know the term, each of us has a lifetime of experience with it.

Liminality is the state of being between what was and what will be.

A liminal space is a threshold—the physical, emotional, or psychological space we occupy as we move from one state, identity, role, or season into another.

Liminality is the uncomfortable—and potentially creative—space of “not yet.”

These transitions become more powerful when we recognize them as thresholds rather than simply rushing through them.

We know how to mark some thresholds. We throw showers, attend graduations, exchange vows, gather at funerals. Our rituals tell us: something has ended, and something new is beginning.

But many of life's thresholds arrive without ceremony.

Liminal spaces are not confined only to BIG life changes.

We experience so many other liminal spaces in our lives, well beyond the traditional weddings, graduations, and funerals.

• Moving to a new home and the many months of adjusting to a new place

• Moving from illness to restored health

• The painful period of puberty (at least for me)

• Moving into adulthood

• The shifting of roles as you move from adult child to caretaker of aging parents

• Moving from employment to retirement

There may not be rituals or celebrations – yet these too are spaces of being “in between” – of passing through a portal into a new state of being.

Liminality is the uncomfortable—and potentially creative—space of “not yet.”

In these transitional places, we can no longer completely return to who or where we were, no matter how much we would like to. It can be unnerving when we don't yet know exactly who or where we are becoming, and that is uncertain and scary ground.

Perhaps one of the defining qualities of liminality is emotional ambiguity: I can be grieving and hopeful. Afraid and excited. Lost and becoming.

In those liminal spaces, we can be flooded with emotions, many of them contradictory. We are excited for the new yet grieve what is left behind. We are hopeful for the new horizons yet also fearful of what might unfold.

In liminal spaces, we may feel uncertain, anxious and unmoored. But we may also experience relief, freedom, curiosity and hope. Often, seemingly contradictory emotions arrive together.

Once I understood this, I could accept the messiness of this space and breathe into it, knowing it was a normal part of the process.

The Paradox of Liminal Spaces

Some liminal spaces are self-selected, like marriage and new jobs and new homes. Others are univited, like illness, death, or sudden changes driven by others.

Yet here is the paradox:

• Chosen change contains loss.

• Unwanted change can contain possibility.

Even the changes we yearn for contain losses. Marriage brings intimacy—and compromises. A new baby brings extraordinary love—and sleepless nights. Adulthood brings freedom—and responsibility.

And the converse can also be true. The changes we would never choose can contain unexpected gifts. Illness can reorder our priorities. Job loss can redirect a career. Grief can eventually deepen our understanding of love.

An Everyday Reminder

Perhaps we aren't continually in a liminal space, but we are continually crossing thresholds. Some are monumental. Others are so ordinary we barely notice them. Just because we don’t notice, doesn't mean they aren’t happening

Yet if we notice, we begin to take agency on the process of liminality – of shaping that which we are stepping into.

Which is why I believe that this liminal space I find myself in between Alaska and Indiana has been top of mind for me. As I vacate vacation mode and cross the threshold into life as usual, I ponder these questions:

• Where might I continue to find the sense of wonder I experienced in Alaska?

• What if I lived my life in more analog mode and lessened the amount of time I spent with technology?

• What routines and rituals in my day to day life do I want to hold on to? And which ones can be scuttled?

When we recognize that we are in a liminal space, rather than treating it simply as a problem to solve or a period to hurry through, we can begin to move through life with more grace and ease. We can stop expecting ourselves to have answers that aren't available yet. We can honor and grieve what we're leaving rather than pretending it didn't matter. Instead of immediately asking, “What should I do?” we can ask, “What is emerging?”

Life is filled with thresholds, large and small. We don't get to choose all of them. But we can choose how consciously we cross them.

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