A Liminal Space

I am in a liminal space.

Liminal comes from the Latin word limens: a threshold below which a stimulus is not perceived or is not distinguished from another. Or, simpler: any point or place of entering and beginning.

If you look up liminal space, you’ll find a passage by Richard Rohr, an author and theologian. His reference and encouragement are clear in this passage: …where we are betwixt and between the familiar and the completely unknown. There alone is our old world left behind, while we are not yet sure of the new existence. That’s a good space where genuine newness can begin. Get there often and stay as long as you can by whatever means possible…This is the sacred space where the old world is able to fall apart, and a bigger world is revealed.

Essentially, it’s a transitional phase. And who hasn’t gone through one? All the challenges we face, and have faced can probably be summed up by transition: I was here, but here is gone and I’m not there yet. Transition causes the anxiety of being ungrounded in what was familiar, and not yet grounded in what will be familiar. It can last a few moments or a seeming lifetime. What determines this? Our perception: a way of regarding, understanding, or interpreting something; a mental impression.

So, if I want to tie a pretty ribbon around everything, I can say that with the right perception, every transition can be a positive experience. And it usually is. How often have we looked back at an emotionally wrenching time in our life, and, after stamping our feet in frustration and anger, or sinking into an emotional abyss, realized that everything worked out for the best, after all?  This is possible because we came through the liminal space and replaced what was with what is.

OK, by now you may be wondering what all this has to do with me and where I am and what exactly does this have to do with writing? Let me explain.

For the last three months I’ve been struggling with restructuring a book I worked slavishly on for almost three years. I wrote from the heart and the gut, but without a clear sense of a narrative arc, to the point of no clear beginning and no clear end. A series of essays, I see now, each with its own conclusion. Several “chapters” were actually published as essays. Of course I was delighted and felt bona fide. But when I put them in the order I thought would work as an ongoing story, the problems showed up: repetition, or lack of clarity, too many or conflicting timelines, a lot of names and places (in German, no less!) just to name a few.

The underlying theme always came back to identity—the lack of true knowledge because of long-lasting trauma, both conscious and subconscious. But it wasn’t enough to provide a clear direction for the reader.

I had a sense of this before I hired a well-respected editor, who went through the manuscript with a fine-tooth comb and pointed out, well, everything. Which was great—as I told her, I sure got my money’s worth. But now for the liminal space. I’ve been in one since I received the manuscript back. Remember when I mentioned the anxiety associated with this space? Well, it’s true.

Another quote by the venerable Richard Rohr: “… It is when you have left the tried and true, but have not yet been able to replace it with anything else. It is when you are between your old comfort zone and any possible new answer. If you are not trained in how to hold anxiety, how to live with ambiguity, how to entrust and wait, you will run…anything to flee this terrible cloud of unknowing.” 
– Richard Rohr

So there you have it, the explanation. I have yet to get to the “replacement,” although I work at it almost daily. And what does it come down to? Perception. My struggles lie not in the time it’s taking, or the effort, or anything else concrete. Instead, it is a problem with how my mind, my senses, are understanding, are seeing a way to the next level, the next world. I continue to stand at the threshold, finding it impossible to cross over because I can’t clearly see where I am going. I try this, and try that, and so far have not found myself in the new place. Yet.

I need to entrust and wait. And keep working at it.