As I sit on my farm, with spring so nascent, I’m present not only to life longing for itself—green shoots pushing through the hardened earth—but also to the transformational opportunity that comes from both endings and beginnings.
Our lives are a series of cycles, not just in the events of a year, but the large cycles of moving from childhood to adolescence to adulthood; we change jobs, some of us have children who hopefully become adults. We start and end jobs, careers, and relationships. People die, babies are born.
Cycles have an ending, a transition period, and a new beginning. Many things can be thought of as cycles, including Mondays, birthdays, and the turn of a new year. I think about each of these moments as the end of a cycle, which means that a new beginning awaits us, such as today.
What Is Liminal Space?
And in between the ending of a cycle and a new beginning is a threshold—a liminal space, the unknown—a doorway in which we stand waiting for whatever is new. We can stand in the unknown for a minute, an hour, or for years.
Liminal space is the transitional space between what was and what is becoming.
My mom waited 23 years to fall in love and be married again after her divorce from my dad. I waited four years between one dog dying, and welcoming the next. We are often uncomfortable with this unknown. We want to know what’s next, how to prepare, what to expect. In some circles, including the Jungian world, these are also thought of as initiations.