The word liminality, is derived from the Latin word limen, meaning threshold.  Liminality is the transitional period or phase of a rite of passage, during which the participant lacks social status or rank, remains anonymous, shows obedience and humility, and follows prescribed forms of conduct, dress, etc. A state of liminality is one where the order of things has been suspended.  It is an unsettling arena where I am learning to steer my vehicle and hoping very soon to guide it towards finding my new self. In liminality, the past is brought into play only briefly to review the loss.  It is the future and the promise of transformation that I find so heartening about liminality. 

So often do we find ourselves in liminal spaces, but only upon inner reflection do we recognize that we are or once were in one. Over the last eleven days, I have been quarantining in an apartment, thousands of miles away from my home. This time, between leaving the place I have felt the most comfortable to beginning the next stage of my work, has been a liminal space for me for a variety of different reasons. The most obvious being this period of waiting to leave, to explore, to begin my next journey in writing my dissertation. This moment of patient calmness, of not doing much, of just being with myself, by myself before the rush begins.

 

But in a more esoteric way, quarantine has forced me to confront liminality in my life as a whole. Before leaving the States, I made a commitment to myself to end a chapter of my life, to turn to the next chapter, and write a new one. I had been living in a way for the last years and realized that those habits were no longer serving me. I promised myself, even as hard as it will be, to break from the prior normal, to begin anew. This period has been marked by learning how to simply be with myself, not consumed by the business of life. To learn the depth of myself through my thoughts, feelings, perspectives. For the first time in my life, I have experienced myself unhindered by the mask of something else. It is both scary and liberating at the same time. 

 

Liminality is often viewed through the lens of grief. The moments after a loved one dies and before you dive into the newness of life without that person. This time for me has been one of grief, as I am learning to let go of my complacency of my life prior, and walk into the scariness of the future. It is so easy to remain in the past, with its known habits, routines, and comfort. However, only through liminality and then moving past it, do we grow into a version of ourselves that is stronger, better, and more our own. 

 

Documenting experiences makes them more real; the act of documenting and sharing the documentation structures the liminal space and gives it purpose that one can control. Part of my grieving process has been through my writing, whether it be journaling or typing up my feelings. It has given me the power to observe and record my feelings, however temporary they may be, to understand how I am moving through this time. I am acknowledging that loss cannot be given up in total and at once. That is one of the benefits of liminality- you can simply be, hovering in the wistfulness of the past, while starting to create your future. What was once a world I cherished and adored, is now turned upside down and I am on the threshold of Betwixt-and-Between-Land.

 

It is hard giving up and moving past something that you believed defined your identity. At the very least, moving beyond something that was so ingrained into your life that it was second nature. However, once you realize that no longer serves you, you cannot go back. You learn ways to both replace it with something else or redefine your relationship with what was once it. I have so much hope for this new normal, however, moving into the future is scary because it is on me to redefine myself.