Rewriting your story in the liminal space

I wiggle uncomfortably in this tenuous upside down position. Frustration and unnerving rumblings ripple through me as I cocoon in this warm sac, hanging precariously in this quiet shelter. The time is coming. I can feel it, but for now my head feels floaty and woozy. I do not know whether this is anxiety or excitement. The nausea makes it hard to know the difference.

So, I gestate here and hope for the best.

But, how long can I stay here? I cannot imagine being in this state for too long; that feels risky and even dull. I try to remind myself there is no rush. And do my best to convince myself there is no danger here, waiting in the dark.

So, I practice allowing myself to be here, for now.

But, how does one “hang” comfortably? What do they even mean when they say, “Hang in there”. I can’t possibly hang forever.

So, I start breathing. In…and out… In…and out…I tell myself, “Pretend you've taken up aerial yoga”. I am that child dangling upside down on a branch of a tree or jungle gym, whispering, “Hi clouds”, while their arms wave freely, fingers stretching below to caress the earth. Yes, I am the squirmy-turned-zen child. Little rays of ease glimmer from within as I imagine opening my heart, chest, whole body. I trust. I trust. I trust.

But, the thoughts roll in again, as they always do. "This is a waste of time. How do I get out? What if this lasts forever?" These thoughts have a way of getting sticky, stickier than the womb I am marinating in. They cling on and take residence here with me, making the stay even more inhospitable.

So, I let the restless thoughts come visit. Because they’re here already. No point in denying that. I corner them though before they gain too much power and swiftly turn into panic. No, we don’t want panic. It will get even more cramped with panic in here. I encourage the thoughts to catch a ride with the leaf that is hopping onto the next gust of wind. Meanwhile, I steady myself so as to not float away with them.

But, I am still here. Stuck. I hear the chirp of a few chatty birds. How I wish to fly free as they do. I close my eyes. I imagine myself shedding the layers that fasten me to this makeshift lodging. I witness gravity pulling down the fibers that cloak my vision, so that I can finally see clearly. Through this dream, I visualize my being transcending this encased space, shapeshifting to the next iteration of who I am meant to be. This is the moment I see it. So clearly. I hadn’t seen it before. And now here it is. The colors feel the most vibrant they have in a long while. I can’t make out the exact shape, but it feels so expansive, winged, and strong.

I open my eyes. Tears flow as the recognition comes to light. I am still here. Still very much in the inverted limbo. In the dark void. And yet, I am okay.

I hold the vision now. I remember who I am. The tears rush with more fervor, sourced from a well deep inside that now feels full.

For now, complete surrender. 

 

Dear reader, life is a spiralic miracle. Seasons of illumination, seasons of grief, seasons of mystery, seasons of growth.

There are also the valuable ‘seasons of the liminal’. Liminal refers to the threshold, the space in between here and there. These are often notable periods of transition or being suspended in time and space, compelled to hold deep patience and trust. Crossing over from the familiar to head to an unknown.

photo by me. found this buddy on my walk after writing this post. oh, universe.

The liminal. It's the boat that has set off, which might be able to sense the port is approaching, but still very much in the depths of the journey. The caterpillar in the cocoon phase. A global pandemic. The pitch black tunnel carved in the mountain side that resembles a portal. The graduation ceremony. Separation or divorce. The creative process of writing a book. Pregnancy. Making a move to a different country. Adolescence. The profound knowing that there's more to your life, yet you’re still figuring things out. Applying for a new school program or pursuing a different career. Gender transition. Falling asleep at 49 and waking up 50 on your birthday. Dreaming. The dormant yet alive seed. Winter to spring.      

We all go through mini cocoon cycles where we hang in that not-quite-there-yet. The slightly to very uncomfy state where we know things are shifting, but also we don’t know exactly how. We sense that there’s transformation on the horizon, and this brings us a rising sense of possibility and peace. And on the other hand, we also face the reality that there are so many uncertain variables in the present moment.

When we are in this liminal position, we often have more inner nudges or a pull to wonder, to reflect, to gain a deeper understanding of ourselves and our world. Or at the very least to figure out how to not stay stuck upside down indefinitely! In order to uncover the potential in this transitional space, we first need to question an oppressive story that we have been taught. The one that says we are not good enough, less valuable, too weird, or completely wasting our time in this liminal period. 

You are worthy of the sacred pause. You are worthy of the chance to change, to become more fully authentic, to meet the current/upcoming moment with a refreshed take. Not the outdated one that doesn’t work anymore. In that in-between space, we practice relinquishing attachment to certain behaviors, aspects of our identity, belief systems, or ways of viewing things. We open up with humility to a fresh perspective or possible new ways of being. Through this, we end up on “the other side”, as a person with new insights, creative longings, relationships, life goals. We might be a different person.


Inside the incubation phase, there is opportunity for growing preparedness. Before we can transit into the next part of our unfolding and transforming, we can explore and integrate what is here. It can feel dark, a little on the disorienting side, and involve a lot of waiting. However, there’s still ‘work’ to be done in this liminal space.

It opens spaciousness to get to know ourselves better. We get clearer on what stays, what goes, and what is yearning to grow inside of us. The pause allows time to ponder options, re-imagine possibilities, daydream, fall more in alignment with what fills our heart. We know any type of change is likely to require some small (and big) action steps at some point. Typically, there’s a planning component when committing to change or when suspecting a bubbling up of transformation. So, a mindful pause lets us create space before jumping into something without intention. We can collaborate with this “holding space”.

It might seem paradoxical that we move forward by pausing. But that's essentially what we’re talking about with the liminal. There’s movement but not always super visible. There are answers in the quiet. And even in the upside down. What enlightenment happens when we slow down to listen to the tiny messages of our mind and body? What downloads – aha moments, intuitive wonderings, or creative connections - arise when we choose to pause and go inward towards the genuine spirit of things? What if the in-between space shows us a refreshed way to understand our story?

Through the process of gentle surrendering (and a bit of playfulness), we can soften our nervous system. We signal to our being, and the greater comos we commune with everyday, that it is safe to be. It is safe to exist here in the in-between for a short while. It strengthens our ability to be with discomfort, a frequent occurrence in this life. Have you ever had the experience of intentionally releasing your perceived control of something? Going from scrunched up tightness to shoulders down, palm up openness. Where you say, "Ok, I let it be." Is there a wave of relief or recharge? Or days later you get hit with a lightning bolt of insight? Thats the potency of creating space.

When we’re put into this limbo state rather than entering it willingly, it can understandably feel all kinds of alarming to our system. We want to get out of it; we want to get back grounded and rooted. We yearn for clear direction and solutions. Yet, for whatever reason, whenever we try to get out of this suspended state, we find ourselves right back in the foggy forest of “Where am I? What direction do I take? What am I supposed to be doing?” The more we fight it, the foggier the path is and more distressing the discomfort feels. So, we learn ways to be here, until clearer ideas, the ‘right’ timing, more energetic capacity, and resources align. 

The uncomfy stuckness or worrisome not knowing does not last forever. No matter what our brain says. Our brain wants us to stay alive, so it talks a lot and often exaggerates anxious energy in times of anything that feels uncertain. No amount of life can stay constricted for too long. We are nature. And nature cycles. We remind our sweet selves that this space of surrendering to the unknown is temporary and ever evolving. It matters but it also doesn’t fully define us. It’s a part of who we have been, who we are, and who we are becoming. It's also a common experience for every single human on this planet, as well as many other species. You are not alone in it. This liminal chapter is one mysterious stage of a larger woven tapestry of life.


Could this mindful pause in the dark actually point us in the direction of our truest needs, desires, goals, visions?

Sacred pauses are not a waste of time, dear one. We are rewriting sacred pauses as productive, restorative, and liberating.


Journaling/Art Prompts:

❤︎ Are you currently in a liminal space? Describe the sacred pause that you are in now. Write about it. Draw it out. Paint it. Create a playlist for it. 

❤︎ When you close your eyes and place your hands on your heart, what feels the most true to you, now? Free write what comes up.

❤︎What would need to be altered or released for you to feel more in alignment with your values? What parts of your identity, relationship dynamics, thinking patterns, day to day behaviors, goals, beliefs, etc are outdated and need to be shed like the layers of a snake?

 ❤︎What activities help you stay more at peace when in a present moment of transition?

❤︎What’s an affirmation that you can remind yourself when you feel lost, disheartened, or overwhelmed in the liminal space? Write it down on a post it or write a letter to yourself. 

 ❤︎When you imagine emerging from this transition space, what does that look and feel like? Visualize it. Write about it. Draw it. Imagine symbols or scenes.


Written with care,

Dr. Mo