Leaning into liminality

What do stairwells, illnesses, decisions, and adolescents have in common? Oddly, they all share a surprising connection—they exist in “in-between” or liminal spaces.

According to Wikipedia, “Liminality (from Latin līmen, ‘a threshold’) is the quality of ambiguity or disorientation that occurs in the middle stage of a rite of passage when participants no longer hold their pre-ritual status but have not yet transitioned to the status they will hold when the rite is complete. During a rite’s liminal stage, participants ‘stand at the threshold’ between their previous way of structuring their identity, time, or community, and a new way (which completing the rite establishes).”

Liminality can manifest in many forms: physical (like stairwells), emotional (such as illness), metaphorical (like decisions), and psychological (as seen in adolescents). How one experiences liminality can vary greatly. While someone may feel comfortable in a physical liminal space, they might be deeply unsettled in an emotional one.

As an executive coach, many of my conversations with clients revolve around these spaces—whether they’re facing a tough decision (metaphorical liminality) or navigating a relationship challenge (often a psychological liminal space). Liminality seems to frequently dominate these discussions.

The classic television show, The Twilight Zone, a beloved relic from the “Golden Age of Television,” explored liminality by straddling the line between the natural and the supernatural. This presents a less defined—though perhaps stranger—form of liminal space.

Last month, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, which immediately thrust me into my own profound liminal space. It’s a strange feeling to be physically healthy yet told you have “a parasite in your body that must be removed”—a line that feels more suited to The Twilight Zone than to an oncologist! Since hearing the words, “You’ve got Invasive Ductal Carcinoma,” time has felt distorted; while the days seem to pass quickly, it feels like an eternity since that moment.

Over the past four weeks, I’ve learned a lot about liminality, and I’d like to share a few insights:

• Reach out for help—whether it’s a coach, therapist, trusted friend, or family member.
• Focus on what’s within your control—for me, this has meant researching my diagnosis, prognosis, and treatment options.
• Keep your schedule as normal as possible—it has helped me to continue working, shopping, cheering on the Dodgers, and spending time with loved ones.
• Get curious about the situation—What might I learn through this process? Who might I meet? What new experiences will make me more relatable to others?
• Take care of yourself—lean on your best centering tools: breathing, journaling, running, meditating. Eat well, sleep enough, and for me, find moments to smile and laugh.

The thing about liminality is that it always has an end. Remembering that “this too shall pass” can be comforting during the hardest moments. But don’t forget—we only have this one day, this one moment, this one life. So, keep finding joy where you can.

I’d love the opportunity to chat with you about liminality, coaching, and life experiences. If coaching or leadership development is part of your plans for 2025, please reach out!