Over the last five weeks, we have talked about liminal spaces as physical locations. Places like river beds, swamps, forest edges, and the ocean’s shoreline hold a special meaning and energy. They are the transition points between two types of land. Just like dawn and twilight, they stand between night and day, light and dark. A describable location with a sometimes-indescribable feeling, a borderland holds a special energy and can often feel unsettling. If you were to walk through a once bustling town that has become abandoned, you can feel that the land holds something different. That place can heighten your senses and demand that you pay attention to the electricity in the air. The energy slipped from a bustling town and into something wild, untamed, and unsettled. Among the fieldstone foundations and cobblestone carriage paths, you can feel the vibrant energy of what once was and the protective cloak of green forest and vine that have been reclaiming the old town as soon as the last person left. Perhaps this energy even drove them out. We know what was there a long time ago. We can feel them and hear their whispers echoing through the trees. Yet, there is something more that lives there now and we quickly move on through to the other side of the ghost town because of it.
We too, live and move through liminal spaces in our own lives. We transition through phases. We experience beginnings and endings. We move through different life markers and can feel the changes as we pass through them. We go through liminal space daily as we shift in and out of that dreamy, otherworldly state where we linger between being awake and asleep. However, it is the changes between different phases in our lives that can make us feel lost, confused, and even question if we are making the right decisions. Transitions are difficult and the space they create before we are fully grown into them, are uncomfortable. They are supposed to be. During time of change, we are creating new routines, learning new things, and making changes in our world. As most of us are creatures of habit, this is difficult for us yet we strive to keep moving forward to make it through to the other side the best we can, learning along the way. That is how we grow and thrive.
Liminality is a threshold. It is a way for us to move from one place to another like a tunnel, bridge, or corridor. We cannot always see the other side, but we keep on going. We know our goal or destination must be there. There is always another other side or level for us to experience as we shift and change. I feel that November and most of December can be looked at as the transition period we go through like a bridge or tunnel. We know in October, at Samhain, that the light is growing shorter. We know the winter months are ahead of us. We long for the brilliant sun of summertime and can dread the long harsh winter under blankets of snow, even though we know it is necessary. Part of the energy of November and December is to reflect upon where we have been and what we have learned. There is a mourning of what once was and a dream of what can be. Although it may be bittersweet, that transition is real. It is liminal. The act of shedding our skin after we burst out of what once was is a sensitive time. Just like a snake that sheds its skin or a crab that molts its shell, we too can feel the sensitivity of this ‘new skin’ we find ourselves in. That can be as scary as it is beautiful. The energies of November and December help remind us that we are supported by the Cailleach and the seasonal tides. They help us to surrender the fear and succumb to the only constant in life. Change. We may not like it, but change will always arrive.
As we hunker down and embrace the liminal energies, we let go of what we know and trust the unknown. We wrap ourselves within the ocean’s waves and travel deep below the surface into the watery darkness to dream. We can find ourselves buried in the fertile soil of sacred land, preparing ourselves to awaken and burst forth in the spring with hopes of strong roots and flowers ready to bloom. Embrace this time to sleep and dream. Offer space for yourself as undergo the pains and aches that come as you grow, change, and transform. Although the light is fading and the night is growing as it rules the land now, take comfort that it too will change. For the light is reborn at Yule, and you too, will be reborn within it. Of course, we will not magically switch into what we desire in that exact moment, but there is hope. Hope that we will be reignited. Hope for our own dreams and plans. Within that hope, we can take comfort in its warmth and know that anything is possible.
Take some time over the week to reflect on your own hopes and dreams. Allow yourselves the chance to explore the space that change creates. What are you shedding? What are you changing? What pattern or mindset are you willing to let go of and what are you creating in order to replace it with? Take the chance and walk your liminal lands. Perhaps there are parts of you like the old ghost towns somewhere deep inside you. Will you quickly walk through them or are you daring enough to explore them? Wrap yourself up under the Cailleach’s mantle and travel to places you never explored. You may be surprised what you will find there.
Be well today and take comfort in knowing that the light will soon return.
Renee Bedard ~ The Whispering Crow
The Whispering Crow 