Crossing Over to Embrace the Liminal Space

Liminal space can be a challenging place. It's the place between what was and what's to come, where the old has passed and the new has not yet arrived. In search of certainty, answers, or "the next big thing," this time can leave us feeling frustrated and anxious.

But liminality is the place where not only transition but transformation happens. It's an opportunity to reflect and learn, explore and discover, and renew or reimagine. In short, this is where the real growth happens. New opportunity often lies on the other side of letting go, if we can mourn the loss of the old and lean into discomfort just enough to unlock creativity.

I recently had a conversation with our landscaper, whom I admire because he proudly refers to himself as a farmer and talks about plants in ways I've never heard before. "Stop fighting the weeds," he says, as he picks a dandelion and explains its nutritional value and many healing properties. Most people, myself included, struggle with gardening because we plant seeds then anxiously wait for blossoms. Instead, months, sometimes years, go by before we get to the beautiful garden we'd envisioned. Along the way, plants die, weather doesn't cooperate, and we keep pouring in money. Gardening is a liminal space, where you're not actually in control, and trying to be only saps any of the joy you might get from it.

My hope for all of us working toward social justice, affordable housing, health equity, safer streets, economic mobility, cleaner air, and all the many community goods and qualities of life we should all enjoy, is that we embrace this liminal space. We don't try to rush through it, nor do we give up in this dip. Instead, we navigate the in-between and look forward to emerging stronger and with greater clarity and conviction. We lift each other up and remind ourselves that every end is also a new beginning, and that every challenge holds the seed of opportunity for renewal.