It’s time to deepen yourself and pay attention to the inner world!
It’s time to find peace in the silence and the more single-pointed focus of creativity.
With the advent of fall, there is a feeling behind the physical world of a wave coming to lift us into a new kind of self-expression, or a new level of energy.
I wonder if this is seasonal, or if our friends in the southern hemisphere experience parallel flows?
Perhaps we’ve been cocooning, preparing, gathering ourselves. I learned on a science program that the caterpillar, when it enters the pupa stage, actually liquefies itself before the raw material of its body reformulates as the butterfly. That’s what I feel I’ve been doing internally—melting down.
This melting process is interesting to me because it really is a key part of transformation. Related to this, I recently participated in a conversation about the concept of “liminal space.” “Liminal” relates to the idea of the threshold. In fact, it pertains to the space on either side of a threshold. That caught my attention because usually we think of what comes before a threshold is reached, and not so much about what comes immediately after before the new form solidifies.
So many of us are in liminal space right now. Perhaps we’re about to cross a threshold, or have already crossed it but don’t quite know it. We all interpret this experience differently, of course, but you can count on a few things: you feel “in-between,” that you don’t know, that the old way is boring or damaging to your body and soul, and that you are out of your comfort zone. You haven’t found an answer yet, can’t seem to imagine your “future,” the Flow seems to have stopped, and you’re losing meanings and security.
If you are a left-brain dominant person, your left brain will go nuts in this undefined state. It wants to know what to do, what to emphasize, what to plan for. It wants to figure something out. It does not tolerate anxiety and ambiguity but wants facts. The left brain may label this as a time of chaos and negativity, or it will throw you into irritability, reactionary behavior, panic, avoidance, addiction, manic activity, or depression—just to have something to do. It might prefer to fill the liminal space with drama, trauma, or an accident or illness—anything but nothingness! So many people I talk to these days are identifying with these left-brain coping mechanisms, thinking they are bad, unevolved, unworthy, or a failure. They say they feel “stuck.” I think this is the left brain talking, not the soul. The soul is never stuck.
If, on the other hand, you are more practiced in perceiving from your right brain, body, heart, and intuition, you will probably feel liminal space as a sort of sabbatical or important pause. You probably trust the Flow and the evolution process, and are more comfortable being with the moment as it is, knowing there is wisdom to be had by paying close attention and feeling into your experience. Waiting doesn’t cause impatience. Being quiet doesn’t feel like the Void. Feeling spacious and full of potential is downright pleasurable.
In liminal space you are being directed into the nonphysical world to clear old patterns so you can receive your new set of instructions, your new imaginations, and more of your true self. You, the soul, are opening a path, a clearing, so the spiritual can flood into the physical and you can learn to be your soul and be soul-directed. In liminal space you are being asked to occupy the present moment fully, to be still and transparent. Here we must be comfortable being timeless, we must become the pause.
Liminal space acts like a magnet. Its very openness and peacefulness can catalyze the experience of compassion if you drop into it and be with it purely and innocently. It can also draw forth everything that is not in harmony with spiritual truth and unconditional love—everything that is in the way of you experiencing yourself as the soul. If a disturbance occurs in the space, you can be sure it covers a deeper issue that you are trying to see through and dissolve. If you wait and watch or feel for the tip of the issue, you may sense it as a glimmer in the space. If you give it attention it will come to you and reveal itself to you so you can understand.
If you choose to trust what emerges in liminal space, you can actually enjoy the dissolving—or in caterpillar terms, the liquefying that is the pre-threshold experience. You won’t make judgments about how what comes is “bad” or that you are failing somehow. Earlier this year, and even now to a lesser degree, I began to feel like a stranger in my life. “Who is driving this car to the market?” I’d think. “Who needs to buy food and eat? Who is walking this body down the hall? How did I come to live in Florida instead of California? How did I get here?”
I began to feel that my story, my history, was not mine, or that I didn’t care to recite it anymore because it felt boring. After all, it could belong to anyone! Then life actually sent me to some of the cities I had lived in growing up, which I hadn’t visited in many years. I touched in, took photos of houses I used to live in, integrated something ineffable, and let the memories go.
Lately I find myself sleeping in the guest room of my house, joking to friends that I am a guest in my own life. I like the feeling of visiting this new place, my up-and-coming life. Perhaps this is about becoming more of an observer, of shifting my identity to a higher frequency plane. I’ve also found that some people who I’ve counted as friends seem to be separating from me, or perhaps relationships are shuddering as though receiving a chiropractic adjustment from the energy field, so they can convey a bigger truth and enter a new phase.
But you know, the great thing about liminal space is that it contains the good stuff and it knows what it’s doing. All we need to do is clear the clutter. Be willing to be. Welcome the surprise of the new arising, the threshold crossing, and the new babylike state of the fresh self. We are not stuck except for adherence to old left-brain habits, fixed ideas, and lack of imagination. What shape will my liquified self be magnetized to take?
The new physical world will soon appear on its rebooted, refreshed screen, and it will show you what to do. You’ll know because it will feel fun and it won’t exhaust you. When I think of liminal space, I think of that wonderful line from Robert Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land: “Waiting is. . .” Waiting without wanting. Falling into waiting to see what’s there. To know the magic firsthand.