Toward Intentional Liminality
Happy Fall.
May this note find you well amidst the season of swift winds and transitions. Inherent in any transition or change is a period of liminality. Coming from the Latin root limen meaning threshold, a liminal period is often marked by disorientation and ambiguity. It can feel uncomfortable and unbearable, and may prompt us to do things to end that discomfort, whether it is finding an escape or grasping for strategies to rush the process and arrive at the other side of transition, at a place with more certainty and grounding. But what becomes possible if we are able to be in that liminal space without trying to change it? What gifts might liminality hold if we are open to receiving them?
These questions emerged for me when I recently found myself in an uncomfortable experience in transit. I arrived at the airport last week to discover my 8:15am flight was cancelled. I was confirmed on a flight eight hours later, and chose to wait on standby for an earlier one that ended up being delayed, and delayed again. I felt frustrated and annoyed, and upon observing these emotions and how they were showing up in my body (faster pulse, tight jaw, raised shoulders), I wondered: where might the light be amidst this suffering?
As I sat on the plane (I thankfully got the earlier flight), I felt myself settle into my body for the first time in several days. I had recently returned from a 4-day intensive training and the time between the two trips was full of commitments to work and people. I hadn’t had a moment to really just be. I realized that this disruption in my travel plans offered me the gift of space to transition well. It was a space in which I couldn’t do anything except wait and be present, and do a little work too.
It was a gift of liminality for which I am deeply grateful. Without it, I know I would have arrived at my destination and started running hard like I had been doing for the last few weeks juggling an unsustainable schedule. This space in-between illuminated to me that my body, mind, connection to self and spirit require ample space for transition. This means extra time in between events, social engagements, and deadlines. It means time of not doing, but being with myself, noticing my sensations and emotions, and allowing things rise to the surface and flow. Being with this period of liminality made it possible for me to have more authentic, intentional actions that aligned with what I care about. It expanded my capacity to navigate this unexpected situation and the change between one place to another.
Liminality is a core part of the process of embodied transformation—to practice ways of being aligned with one’s visions and values even amidst existing pressures and ever-changing conditions. This is unbounded space—it is like being on a lake, having departed from one shore but not yet seeing the shore on the other side. This is a sacred moment because it tells you that you have broken away from the patterns that no longer serve you, and you're becoming the person you want to be—for yourself, your relationships, your communities, and our planet.
As we approach the end of October, a time when many cultures and traditions believe we are closer in proximity with ancestors and spirits, I wonder how we might consider the experience of liminality as a temporal parallel to the energetic space of the veil between the living and the spirit worlds? How might we make peace with the discomfort of unbounded space and open ourselves to the gifts that it has to offer? I welcome your reflections and thoughts to learn together.
Warmly,
Em