It was the only question, then, as now, years later. Then, “What shall we sing?” said someone, to the silence, to the sunlight on the covers, to the stars. Radiant.Ĭake in hand, and napkins, knife, glasses, a crystal carafe a century old, we paused there on the thresholds of our own momentary lives. Fresh from birth, nigh unto death, bright – eyed, they were bookends there, mirrors of each other. Living, breathing, smiling they were, but each with one foot and who knows how much consciousness firmly planted on the other side, whatever that is, the starry darkness from whence we come and whither will we go, in time. These two were closer to the threshold, the edge of the great mystery, than any of us had been for a long time or would be for a while. We revellers were hushed because we clearly saw that these were dancers on the very edge of things. There they were: a plump one, apple-cheeked, a cherry tomato of a babe, smiling and a silver-thin one, hallow-eyes, translucent, shining, smiling. Neither one could walk, neither one could speak, not in language you could understand, both utterly dependent on the rest of us bustling around, masquerading as immortals. There is the late afternoon light were two people side by side, two human merely beings. The following reflection by Victoria Safford, describes this beautifully. Then there are those moments of life’s transitions, between life and death itself. And at the other end of the day that state when we move from being fully awake and conscious into deep sleep. Similar to those moments when we awaken from a deep sleep, when we are not yet fully awake but no longer asleep. As we do we come out of the fog once again and step into a new clear light. Sometimes in that fog we find a complete stillness and in that stillness a new truth can be revealed. “Liminal Space” is that moment when we move either into or out of a deep fog, whether physical or one made from our own minds. Or at dusk, when the evening sun sinks into the horizon bringing nightfall. Such as the dawn of each day, when the morning sun rises high in the sky bringing daylight. So “Liminal Space” is that moment when something changes from one state to another. In psychology the term “Limen” means the point at which a stimulus is of sufficient intensity to begin to produce an effect. The word “Liminal” comes from the Latin “limens”, meaning “a threshold.” A threshold is a doorway or the entrance, it is a place or point of entering or beginning. Well “Liminal Space” is a threshold, a space between things. Now what on earth does it mean? You may well be asking. ![]() Over the last few months I have kept on hearing a phrase that I was not really consciously aware of before it is phrase that has kept on knocking on the window of my consciousness all this year, staring right into my soul. Each beginning is actually the end of something and each ending is the beginning of something new and what stands in between is threshold. The truth is though that we are always standing at thresholds, at times of change. As we stand together between the worlds in the changing of the light. There is a beauty in those in between days as we stand on the threshold of something new, in that space. For it is in this cold stillness that change can begin to form and grow. There is a beautiful wonder about winter that we would do well to embrace. There is such richness in the dark cold of winter and we need to feel it and allow our eyes to adjust to the darkness. To live, always holding on to the spring yet to come, is to fail to fully experience what is present now. We want spring and the new birth and life that it brings, but that is not the way to live and we know it. Winter is not an easy time, so many of us want it over as soon as possible. January and February can be difficult as we feel stuck in the cold on these dark winter evenings. Yes the day light hours will increase over the coming weeks but still we must face winter. The winter solstice has passed, Christmas has been and gone and we find ourselves in those in-between days standing at the threshold of a new year. ![]() So here we stand on the hinge of another year.
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