The quote above from Douglas Adams’ Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy has always resonated with me. It speaks to how we’re always searching for something beyond where we currently are. How change and transformation are part of being human, even if that sometimes scares us.
These “places between” are also known as liminal spaces – the places we’re in while we’re in transition between different states. Neither one thing nor the other. Where we’ve stepped off from where and who we were, and possibilities remain open to us. Where we choose our destiny.
Liminal spaces can exist in the physical, temporal, emotional or psychological domains. Anywhere that we find ourselves between two states, suspended between alternatives, but not yet in any of them. Think of how you feel as you fly from one country to another – suspended between two worlds, new experiences awaiting you, but for the time being, you’re nowhere. Stuck in transition. You, and hundreds of other people, each in their own liminal space, each with their own tingling anticipation of what happens when they arrive.
One of my favourite liminal spaces is at the ocean’s edge, standing in the shallows, feet slowly sinking into the sand as waves lap over them. You’re not quite in the water, not quite on land. The unknown depths of the sea stretch before you; behind is the familiarity and solidity of the known. A place for thinking and reflection.
Shortly, most of us will find ourselves in that liminal space between one year and the next, where the days blur into one. Where we have no particular responsibilities remaining for 2023, and the demands of 2024 await. A place where we resolve to do better next year, even while we know we probably won’t. Where the lazy summer days lead to contemplation about whether we want to stay on our current path or seek a new one.
Right now, I find myself in multiple liminal spaces. In the middle of transitions to… somewhere. On the writing front, I’m in the all-too-common limbo state between having written a book and getting it published. A story has been told, but not yet read. And within the boundaries of that limbo-land, I’m in the neverworld of seeking to secure an agent – a rite of passage for all authors. What lies on the other side – or even if there is another side! – remains unknown.
On the personal/career front, I’m standing on the shore of employment, looking over the sea to the island of retirement. I’ve resigned from my long-term job, but still need to serve out my notice period (much of that while still on leave…), which means that from mid-February, I’ll no longer be working. Beyond that? Liminal space stretches into the distance, with all possibilities open as to what lays on the other side. Perhaps it’s all liminal space now?
Who knows – I might even get some writing done!
