A LIMINAL STATE OF LIVING
SELF
What is Liminal and How Do We Live With It?
WRITTEN BY
TEE BAKER
There’s a stretch of time between what was and what will be—a foggy, formless space without shape, structure or routine. Upon graduating from my MA, Chancellor Dawn French described it musically as fermata: a pause, held longer than usual for expressive effect. In anthropology, it’s called the liminal—a threshold state between identities, the crossing between chapters. Neither here nor there, it’s a space many of us find ourselves in throughout life. We feel unsettled, vulnerable, quietly unanchored.
The liminal space often surrounds us after significant endings and before beginnings. The limbo between leaving a job and discovering your next step. The loss of a loved one. The long inhale between seasons. It’s a place that can feel uneasy, yet it’s where real transformation often brews.
“In modern life, liminality shows up less in ceremonies and more in moments of waiting, wandering, wondering. While it can feel like an emotional no man’s land, there’s power in this pause.”
What does “liminal” actually mean?
Derived from the Latin limen, meaning threshold, liminal spaces are in-between zones where our identity, environment or expectations shift. Anthropologist Victor Turner defined it as the middle phase of a rite of passage: the disorienting period of ambiguity before integrating into a new state of being.
In modern life, liminality shows up less in ceremonies and more in moments of waiting, wandering, wondering. While it can feel like an emotional no man’s land, there’s power in this pause.
Why liminal spaces matter for growth
Our impulse is often to escape discomfort. This tendency can leave us stuck in patterns, relationships and jobs that no longer serve us. But after shedding an old layer of self, liminal spaces invite reflection, expansion and quiet transformation. They matter because:
They make room for reinvention. Stripped of familiar roles or rhythms, we ask: what now? What do I want to keep, and what do I want to leave behind?
They allow for reorientation. Growth isn’t always forward motion. Sometimes it’s stillness. Sometimes it’s looking inward before stepping outward.
They sharpen clarity. When we aren’t rushing ahead, we see our present desires, fears and habits more clearly.
As psychologist Erik Erikson outlined in his developmental theory, identity often takes shape in these in-between states. They help us figure out who we’re becoming.
“Identity often takes shape in these in-between states. They help us figure out who we’re becoming.”
How to embrace the liminal
Living in the liminal isn’t about solving the moment. It’s about embracing discomfort, staying with it long enough to listen, learn and recalibrate. Here are some ways to make peace with the pause:
Name it. Recognising you’re in a liminal space can ease anxiety. It makes the feeling less personal and more universal.
Ritualise your routine. Tiny acts—making tea, journaling, walking at sunset—give structure when everything else feels loose.
Reflect without rushing. Ask: What is this space teaching me? What feels ready to fall away
Lean into slowness. Busyness might be tempting, but presence is powerful. Liminality is a slow unfurling.
Allow your discomfort to be your data. The friction you feel? It’s feedback pointing you somewhere new.
Tiny Experiments: A Way Forward
In her book Tiny Experiments, neuroscientist Anne-Laure Le Cunff encourages testing small shifts to spark bigger changes. Within liminal living, this method becomes a lifeline, creating space for movement without forcing a leap.
In the steep
The liminal space can feel like a waiting room, but it’s more like a greenhouse. It holds potential. It softens us. It slows us down enough to listen and grow. It asks not just who we’re becoming, but how we want to arrive.
“The liminal space can feel like a waiting room, but it’s more like a greenhouse. It holds potential. It softens us. It slows us down enough to listen and grow. It asks not just who we’re becoming, but how we want to arrive.”
Behind the Pour
Tee Baker is the Founder and Editor of Spill. A graduate of Falmouth University with a degree in screenwriting, she brings over eight years of professional experience crafting compelling narratives for clients across PR, social media, and digital storytelling. In 2020, Tee published her debut book, Bark & Ink. When she’s not writing, you’ll often find her exploring the outdoors on foot or horseback.