Liminal Space

I’ve been thinking lately about what happens in between points of change.  Whether through birth/death, parenthood/empty nesting, job loss/gain, sickness/health, divorce, age - transitions and change happen whether we like it or not.  Sometimes transitions are obvious, clumsy, sticky, and uncomfortable.  Sometimes they are smooth, seamless, and only perceptible with the help of hindsight.   

What happens to transition when one becomes present to what is happening inside of it?  Is it still considered a ‘transition’ if it becomes part of your present moment? Is mindfulness through transition more or less comfortable than letting it pass unnoticed? Does acute awareness of change enable one to steer the ship of time more intentionally, or does attempting to do so only add challenge, frustration, and grief to the inevitable?

As I transition into my 43rd year of being and a whole new way of living my life, these are the questions that keep me awake at night. To be honest, I’m not sure any of them have good, solid answers and - as it always comes back to in yoga - the conclusion is likely a befuddling mix of “yes,” “both,” and “it depends,”

The platitude I offer myself to simplify my quandary is present-moment awareness. More precisely, I’m referring to present-moment awareness when we are in-motion or transitioning from one place/thing/role to the next. The journey, not the destination - you know, that platitude.

Feelings of becoming tend to be subtle and undulating. Likely, the more dynamic a situation, the more rich it can be with information with which to grapple. For example: excited and scared are similar emotions, but not the same. Can you articulate the difference between the two feelings? Can you feel both excited and scared at the same time, or do they flip-flop or continually interweave with one another? What does one feeling give you that the other one can’t and vice-versa?

The more I think about what it means to be present, the less I think it’s about feeling good, happy, or calm. I’ve spent plenty of time on the opposite side of cheery and I think I’m still living an authentic, full, and meaningful life. For me, the more attention I give to the murky waters of change and transformation, the more I understand what I need for/from myself to either hold steady or - when it goes well - move forward. Most of the time (I said most of the time, ok?) I feel secure when I can hold the surface of my feelings and let them ride, undulate, and buck around inside of me. Sure, sometimes I fall down (we all do, right? …Right?!) AND, preceding/succeeding a fall (or downtime, or dejection…) usually comes a transition which either led us there or pulls us out. It’s in these transitions we can become acquainted with information which can either steer in a different direction from a previous fall or teach us how to avoid the same fall in the future.

Contrarily, being present during transitions that feel easy, light, and lovely only adds to the sweetness we may squeeze out of life wherever and whenever we can. To most people (especially to children) being present to pleasure, joy, and contentment is easy and worth the cognitive energy when we know we’re moving positively in a direction. We can learn a lot from what brings us joy and pleasure and we should continue to pay attention to that through transitions in life that bring on such feelings. Of course, staying present to positive transitions is also a challenge for some - but a muscle you can exercise to become more aware of if it is an issue for you (read more about a “pleasure practice” on my blog post February 2024).

I would be remiss if I didn’t say that yoga can be a great way to practice honing one’s attention to the space of the in-between. As we move from work to studio, parent to student, Peacock to Pigeon, external to internal, or inhales to exhales - we train our brains to become aware of - and even relish in - liminal space.

I’ll be exploring transitions via yoga practice over the next few weeks in my public classes. We will practice infusing presence into our in-between moments. Even when the moments in class aren’t feeling settled or satisfying, we can learn about ourselves and what we may need out of those observations to steer us in whatever direction we might want to go.  Time marches on and change emerges like waves in the ocean. Sometimes we ride the waves, and some times we tumble in them - it’s up to us to either enjoy the ride or come up for air and try again.