Liminal Phases

Posted on October 5, 2009

My friend Adam just asked me how I was doing.

I answered, “In a very strange, transitional, wacky place right now, actually. But it feels sort of like standing outside a really awesome Christmas party:

Shivering and bundled up and with a bottle of wine in my hand…. uncomfortable, but knowing that just on the other side of that door is a great time.”

Ladies and Gents, I think I’m in what psychologists call a Liminal Phase. Growing and stretching and creating new and further boundaries for myself.

It sounds grandiose and fabulous, and I’m sure at some point I will look back on it as a wonderful time in my life…but at the moment it mostly feels like I need to get into new skin, and possibly crawl into a large glass of wine.

What do you do during these phases? How do you try to make yourself more comfortable?

Adam P Knave

I create more in these phases, to see what fits today.
mandythompson

Drew and I are finishing up his last two months of seminary, and already making grandiose plans for life back in Georgia.

Talk about “liminal!”

I’m simultaneously ecstatic and scared. We will both have our “dream jobs” which won’t bring nearly as much happiness as the world tells us it will. And along with that comes many other “happinesses” – like homebuying and parenting – that I’m sure will just slowly trickle down below the level of fulfillment that the world places on such milestones.
Pessimistic? eh…. I think I’m being realistic.

I’m learning that “new” doesn’t always mean better. That “familiar” doesn’t always mean comfortable. And that “different” doesn’t mean improved.

I guess I just don’t want to get my hopes up.

So, in the liminal? I grow. I change. But I don’t expect.
Donna

I feel like I’m doing much the same except no part of this reminds me of the prelude to a Christmas party. It is one of the most extraordinarily agonizing processes I’ve ever had to go to. I’d compare it more to a metaphorical child birth.

I don’t know that I’ll ever look back on this time fondly, but I’ve also thought that about other time periods in my life and as I’ve matured I’ve come to recall even those painful moments with a certain bittersweet fondness so maybe that will be the case with this current situation. I truly hope so.

For me, comfort comes in things familiar. The voice of a friend, some colorful flowers, a good book or a favorite movie, hot chocolate, a night time walk. When life is uncertain and the future looks bleak and frightening, as it does right now, I turn to my little personal security blankets to remind me that I am often stronger and more adaptable than I give myself credit for and there will be an “other side” to this too.

For now, as Rilke so eloquently suggested, I live the question. I hope that someday I might be lucky enough to find myself living the answer as well.
Rhett

Sometimes, it seems like I spent every day since my 23rd birthday in one of these…quitting my job, going to grad school, interning at Google, having to return home, immediately moving to South Florida to work for Mot, quitting my doctoral program, getting laid off, and running away to the West Coast…

The only thing I’ve ever done that’s brought me comfort and moments of resolution is to just keep doing exactly what it looks like I should be doing, trusting that my mind is right and what’s coming in front of me is right, too. It’s generally been a good system.

write. play. repeat.

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