Liminality is a place when one feels they are between two (or more) states. Essentially, it’s an experience of not knowing precisely where we are or what is happening as we move from one way of seeing/being/doing to another.

It is somewhat like the process of metamorphosis that certain beings undergo as they change (or transform) their form or nature from past to present, or present to future. Adolescence is a good example of a liminal situation.

Beyond individual beings, liminality also characterizes a system, institution or situation that is undergoing a vast change, often in a time frame that those involved may consider too long or too short. What is important here is that there is a feeling that things-as-usual-and-normal are suspended, without knowing the precise outcome or consequence of the change.

If “liminality” is a given, as I believe it is, then what matters most is our approach and our attitude toward this fact of life.

Emily Dickenson wrote, “I dwell in possibilities,” but my life experience leads me to think that “we dwell in liminality.” More to the point, this state is a constant one; we are all continually undergoing changes that are both predictable and unpredictable. Life, then, becomes the art of making the necessary adjustments to rethink and reframe what is happening to and around us, and how we can most effectively and efficiently make the changes that are needed to adapt to and adopt ever-changing life situations.

We live from change, and we live and breathe change. To think otherwise is largely the folly of youth, inexperience, or negligence.

The questions we must ask of ourselves then, since life is always in a state of flux and transition, is, how can we adapt to and approach this situation? What is our attitude toward the inevitability of change and transition? If life and the world writ large are all about change, what is our perspective?

Are we at ease with the ebbs and flows of life? Do we take on change, growth, and deterioration with grace or with resentment, anger, or fear? And, importantly, can we change with the changes as they are written into our lives and life scripts?

Liminality is not an easy concept or reality. As human beings, we are (mostly) creatures of routine. Many folks feel calmed by the predictability of much of life. We build anticipation, expectation, and hope based on what we know, what we have observed and experienced.

Being in a liminal situation or circumstance upends much of what we are most familiar with. We become faced with novelty, which causes most people some form of stress — whether in its negative form (distress) or its positive form (eustress). The “not-knowing” or “not-yet-known” aspect of liminality is what causes so many of us confusion and even anxiety.

None of this is theoretical — we live it, and we live in it. The world changes moment by moment, in ways both predictable and unpredictable. Whether ready or not, we must be willing to let go of our presumptions and our assumed way of doing and thinking. This letting go can be very scary, no matter our age and experience.

While many people seem to be open to and ready for “whatever,” there are others for whom being in a liminal state is the last thing they would want and ask for. Most sentient beings steer themselves away from pain, hurt, and suffering. In Buddhism, pain is an integral aspect of life; coping, managing, surviving, and thriving are all based on how we direct ourselves to handle and adjust to it. No matter our personal, familial, cultural, and professional circumstances — they, too, shall change.

So, what to do to be more sanguine? How do we strive to remain balanced and live from a place of equanimity? When we sense that we have appropriate supports around us, and feel confident and competent, we are generally better able to cope with not-knowing and the unknown. If we feel emotionally and physically safe and know that others have our back, we may be more willing to take the risks involved in stepping out of our comfort zone.

This feeling of support holds true for me when I travel. I appreciate more the opportunity to go to and through the “hard places” where there are challenges awaiting me. I both know and don’t know what I am heading into. Getting out of my own comfort zones helps me to feel more fully alive and focused in the present.

I’ve learned to accept my living in liminality as both a joy and a raison d’etre. I’m able to use my skills, experience, and knowledge, to help me in and through almost any situation. “Living liminally” fills my life with meaning, immediacy, and presence. My sincere hope is that all of us have the opportunity to grow into our fullest selves by learning to accept living liminal lives.

Daniel Cantor Yalowitz writes a regular column in the Recorder. A developmental and intercultural psychologist, he has facilitated change in many organizations and communities around the world. He is former chairman of the Greenfield Human Rights Commission and his two most recent books are “Journeying with Your Archetypes” and “Reflections on the Nature of Friendship.” Reach out to him at danielcyalowitz@gmail.com.

]]>