Exploring Liminality and how through transition can come unlikely transformation

Richard Hilton explores the concept of Liminality and how through small, often insignificant transitions, can come transformation and healing. 

I wonder what your favourite month of the year is? For me, October is a truly magical time. Nature puts on a breathtaking display of beauty, with the landscape of the Luddenden Valley where I live, bursting out vibrant colours. Evenings are often spent enjoying a pint by the fireplace in the warm embrace of the local pub. Seeing people celebrate Halloween and immerse themselves in the delightful sights and smells of autumn is so heartwarming. It’s a month where we prepare to take the time to remember and pray for those who have passed away. Christmas parties are planned, and there’s a general sense of solidarity in the changing of the season. Plus, there’s the excitement of finalising my sunny holiday plans for November.

Ask me about my least favourite month, and I might say September. This is quite personal, but for me, it feels like a time of being in-between. The weather is indecisive. It’s a month when everyone returns to their usual routines. If you’re a parent, it’s often a busy time at the start of the academic year, adding to the traffic that makes my commute a bit challenging. It’s a mundane time of nothing, and with the emptiness of the month, I think, a cause for some anxiety.

The word ‘limen’ means threshold in Latin. Being in a liminal space means being in a state of ambiguity, neither here nor there. I used to be impatient with this space, but now I appreciate it as a metaphorical place of transition.

After the pandemic, some liminal moments were lost. Like many, I’ve found that in this post-pandemic world, many meetings and gatherings that were once in person are now online. Everything seems less personable. People are more definite, and this leaves an absence of spontaneity and creativity. There are benefits, like reducing our carbon footprint and saving travel time, especially here in Calderdale, where getting anywhere can take a while due to endless roadworks. Then there’s always time saving – cutting the in-between so that we maximise ‘valuable time.’ 

However, it has also meant losing many of those liminal spaces—like gazing out of a train window, enjoying a quiet drive, engaging in small talk before a meeting, the small talk with a member of checkout staff in place of a self-service machine, or simply smiling at someone, being warm to a fellow dog walker encountered. We often overlook these moments, but now that they happen less frequently, I’ve come to appreciate their importance. A friend once said ‘time you enjoy wasting, is never wasted.’ Maybe habits have changed, but it seems society has become less hospitable, less mobile, less communicative, and more insular.

Music always has been and is a major part of my life. Music is a universal language, and indeed, it is about communication and engaging with others. Often, we enjoy music alone, with our earphones on, shutting out the world. These days, many of us are absorbed in our phones, watching or listening to things solo, missing out on opportunities to share space and time.

I suppose these feelings aren’t often seen as necessary, but I believe they are truly important.

Sometimes, when we are in the thick of a busy, intense life, we will only try and “map” people, work out what they are like in relation to us. Are they academic, educated, or the same class as us, where they come from, who they know, what are their opinions on things like politics or social issues. And all of those things can be quite divisive. If we live out lives on that fact-based level, we will never get to know who they truly are.

Who are we, outside of all those things? Outside of our social attitudes, or what faith if any we have, or what our hobbies, escapisms, interests or our knowledge are? 

We need the time of liminality to step outside of the very present, to find something of peace and grounding, through being quiet or being outward in demonstrating our love for others – even if we don’t feel like it, in the moments of transition. 

So, if you ask me what my favourite month is, it still isn’t September. But I’ve come to realise that it is the beautiful month of liminality: the leaves are changing during the warm, sunny days and cooler evenings. We’re no longer enjoying full summer, but we’re not yet facing the cold months. Liminality is the state of being in-between, or transition. It’s the gentle pause between sleep and waking. Embracing liminal time in our lives means accepting the in-between and allowing it to be a time of transition and personal transformation….in the moments we least expect.