WHAT IS LIMINAL SPACE and WHY IT’S OUR NEW NORMAL

After 9-11 life was totally altered for all of us. As a writer, I sat and stared at my manuscript, wondering if anyone would ever read a novel again. Should I even bother. Normality had escaped us, and now I feel something like that is recurring. Back then, a friend offered me some insight. It came in the words of Father Richard Rohr, a Franciscan priest whose teaching is like that of the first St. Francis: empty yourself, be compassionate of others, especially those that are socially marginalized. Okay. How do I do that when I am angry and confused…

Rohr spoke of liminal space—and despite my many years of study and reading, those were words I had never heard.

He defined it as: …a unique spiritual position where human beings hate to be… 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, wait, you will run…anything to flee this terrible cloud of unknowing. 


Thus, I had found a label for what I was feeling, what millions were feeling: liminal space—this terrible cloud of unknowing.

And it truly was a terrible time—but ever so slowly we went back to work, children went back to school and life haltingly proceeded. My husband had lost a co-worker who had been at the hotel attached to one of the towers, his body never found. More images of that day were released and they pinned us to this new and frightening liminal space. It was a horrible new norm, but all we could do was go on. For many—even that did not happen. There was too much pain and sorrow to allow forward movement. Adjustments were indescribable, unlivable.

When I finally sat at the keyboard and wrote again, I injected the concept of liminal space. It felt right. My character was truly living there.

But you know what? Often—we all are. Because we are always waiting for something: a job, a pregnancy, a graduation, a diagnosis, an acceptance letter, even a death; or a yes from someone who is holding what feels like the rest of our lives over our heads…until the yes comes through. Until then, we are under that cloud of unknowing.

Regardless, there is often good news, as there was post-9-11. We saw, heard and felt the warmth, love, understanding and the giving of many Americans who did whatever they could to help those who had lost someone. Later, it was young men, women who joined our volunteer army, feeling that the best way to give.

Certainly, liminal space always challenges us. We are rarely free of the unknowing—because ah, yes, we are mortal and have no knowledge of the date of our demise. That’s a given. But it can be used to power our love of self (taking care of our bodies) and the love of those we live and work with. For how much better to offer understanding, honesty, friendship on a daily basis—because who really knows what the next hours bring.

Pain can provide all of us with teachable moments. Though we find ourselves in liminal space, on the threshold of something unknowable, we forge always ahead:

the cancer patient who goes into remission and dedicates her time to helping other patients; the teacher who takes extra time to work with the very student who upsets his classroom; the doctor or nurse who enters the clinic despite life-threats; the cop who does all he can to make certain-sure before using deadly force; the mother, father, neighbor, citizen who listens and evaluates any situation before making a judgment or rising to anger.

After 9-11 Rohr reminded us that both Christian and Muslim mystics preferred the language of darkness. That is: they were most at home in the realm of not-knowing. In that darkness, Rohr writes, things are more spacious and open to creative response. We are more open to letting in God or blessed, positive thoughts–just like the cancer patient who is grateful for every day and turns darkness into light. This from the Persian mystic Hafiz:

Don’t surrender your loneliness so quickly.

Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you.

Finally, in this time of questioning, where we find ourselves often divided, even from friends and loved ones who feel and think differently than we do, try to accept and live in the cloud of unknowing. Try to move a bit closer to the other side or try to find something they share with you. It can be very challenging and just downright hard. But remember, you are both in liminal space, not truly knowing all.

Literature–inspirational books, poetry, memoirs, reflections–can serve as guides. There is actually a website devoted to liminal space that can help lift that cloud. Music allows all cultures to come together sharing dance, songs and just the joy of listening. Do you remember the film, the Hundred Foot Journey? It underlines that people and cultures that are vastly different can cross the threshold and come to a place where there is not only knowing, but also sharing and love. Because we truly have no choice, but to often life on the threshold, uncertain of which path to take. We exist in this liminal space, a new normal that we must accept and work with, so that the cloud of unknowing will be transformed into one of understanding. 

How do you deal with your own pain? And thanks to Fr. Rohr, artist Aeron Brown, and the artist below.   

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