Defining The Liminal Sphere

What Is The “Liminal”?

The concept of the “liminal” has existed for thousands of years, but always defined in ways that were nuanced to the particular time period and culture in which it was situated. It would have had many different words associated with the realms and paradigms of its sphere, and phases of context that would flavor it.

The word “liminal”, though, has really only been in use for a few centuries; since about the 19th century, specifically. According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) the liminal is characterized by being on a boundary, such as between two states, phases, places, times, events, or conditions. It also has come to mean spaces or experiences that are situated at a sensory threshold, in other words, that which is barely perceptible. In a similar vein, the liminal has also come to describe anything that exists or functions below the threshold of consciousness, which can refer to a plethora of things from the frequencies of sound or light that is at the thresholds of human capacity to the supernatural and paranormal.

What Is The Liminal Sphere?

Ah, the liminal spheres. The realms of near infinite possibilities, and shades and hues of every flavor of existence. Limen, the latin root that serves as the basis of a number of other words in the English language, all closely related. Think subliminal — which is where the barely discernible lies. Or the sublime — sometimes referring to the most delicate of beauty or the uncanny and horrific. Or the preliminary — referring to the introduction of something, the cusp of a subject matter.

The liminal is transitory, transmuting, transformative, amorphous, and fluid. It’s in hallways leading from one room or part of a building to another, it’s in the threshold of doorways, and other physical boundaries. Its is within the dawn and twilight phases, transitions of light and dark. It’s in river deltas where warm fresh waters from mountains clash with cold briny waters of the deep ocean. It’s in the sacred spaces from ancient times like deep forest groves brimming with fairy circles to the stone arches of Neolithic ruins that were considered portals to other worlds like the Underworld and other chthonic realms. It is writhing in the shadows we glimpse in our peripherals as the darkening of the night encroaches on our senses.

It exists in fringe and counter cultures that lie outside the previews of the mainstream. It is deeply entrenched in old world knowledge, indigenous ways, in the New Age communities and teachings.

The liminal reigns supreme over everything outside the norm, the mainstream, the expected and the logical.

The Role The Liminal Has Played In The Human Collective.

As mentioned above, the concept of the liminal has been around for ages (literal ages and epochs of human culture, even pre-dating society) with different names and words. But the idea itself is nothing particularly new. It is the realms of the spiritual and even the scientific, from portals in stone to the observation of shifting matter phases and frequencies. It’s presence also stimulating the fanciful flights of imagination and creativity, the sphere of the arts and literature. Through it has come religion, philosophies and spiritualities, hypotheses for scientific discovery and experimentation, to technological innovations. A spawning point for everything from tv shows and movies to video games and novels.    

In every culture, there are liminal rituals—ceremonies for birth, coming-of-age, marriage, and death. These aren't just quaint traditions. They're (sometimes structured, sometimes not) ways of managing transformation and uncertainty. Humans instinctively mark transitions: we need liminality to make meaning of change, to make sense of our existence. From Mesopotamian gates to the realms of the gods, to Persephone’s seasonal descent in Greece or other entrances to Hades such as Hierapolis in Turkey, to medieval religious pilgrimages all over Europe and sacred Buddhist or Taoist pilgrimages over the far East, history is full of people engaging with the liminal. Borders were never just geopolitical—they were spiritual and symbolic. Nature is particular has always been associated with the liminal. Forests, mountains, deserts, and oceans have always been thresholds where the normal rules and expectations were suspended.

In the realms of Psychology, Carl Jung would call the liminal space individuation—where the conscious self encounters the shadow of the unconscious. It’s the therapy room, the internal dreamscapes, the emotional fog after a breakup or death of a loved one, or the anxieties and hesitations before a major life decision.

In modern terms? It's the existential ‘pause' button.

Liminality is uncomfortable but necessary—it’s where growth happens, where we question who we are, our values, our reasons, our sense of purpose, our perceptions, and more.

The Role The Liminal Has Played In My Life.

The liminal — a word that tastes like ancient incense and sounds like a whisper beyond the Veil.

A long sigh escape from my chest, contemplating this subject. It has permeated every facet of my life and experiences from the earliest childhood memories to recent experiences with the passing of my grand mother — spanning from the mundane and tepid to the heights of the paranormal. I could likely write a book on my own encounters with the liminal sphere alone, and a long one.

I’ve always been an intuitive and empathic individual, to the point of being referred to as uncanny, and unwittingly unnerving people with my candid words, my insights, and even my presence. Perhaps, I’ve always had one foot in the apparent realm, and the other planted somewhere in the spheres of the liminal. I could sit here and wax lyrical about every strange encounter, synchronistic meeting, supernatural experience and even mundane life transitions (like graduating from my undergraduate phase of university and higher education in a few weeks) — but I’ll save all that for another blog post, or podcast episode!

Why The Liminal Still Matters Even Now.

Climate change, AI, political upheaval, mass migration, shifting identities—modern life is one big rite of passage. A huge and colorful parade of transition. The stable identities and social structures constructed in the rise of the industrial age are dissolving; sometimes slowly over generations, and other times in chaos and strife of wars and shifting political regimes. We’re collectively standing in the mists of the liminal as our world transforms around us.

The liminal teaches us to sit with the discomfort of simply not knowing. It calls us to listen, reflect, and be brave enough to step into the Unknown. Invites us to become more creative, to take a deep breath where the rigid and predictable ends, the imaginative begins. Through the experiences of the liminal we can foster greater empathy—we see others in their in-betweenness, messy middles, phases of transmutation and honor them. Its transitional nature demands transformation—not the performative kind, but the deep soul-churning and mind-melting kind.

Humanity's relationship with the liminal is ancient, intimate, and ongoing. It's the crucible of change, the bridge between what was and what might be, infinite potentials. And in a world of rapid flux, reclaiming our understanding of liminality isn't just poetic—it’s essential.

Because let’s face it: we’re all in the middle of something.

The Dawn & The Dew

I had another blog (in what feels like a lifetime ago now) over on another platform. However, I felt all over the place with everything; from my “personal branding” with a theme that seemed to change every few months, to the topics I would flit back and forth to — like a somewhat neurotic hummingbird. I hadn’t quite settled on my passions yet, and every new fascination was a shiny new penny to gush over. I didn’t know myself well enough, hadn’t processed my “stuff”, to articulate something that felt almost ephemeral to other people. I hadn’t figured out how to craft a cohesive blending of colors, texture, imagery, voice and tone, or subject matter into a singular vision or mission to share in a way that wasn't going to confuse or unsettle others.

I’m not sure if I’m there even now, at the point I can succinctly summarize who or what I am, and precisely articulate the subject matter I am well-versed in or what I have explored in the most depth. I’m not sure I ever will, I don’t feel it’s authentic for me to do so. My interests span a wide breadth of things, ideas, concepts, fields and industries. I’m also a woman, with a body that is constantly changing like the shifting seasons or the phases of the moon. I think, in retrospect, that might have been the seed of what would become The Liminal Sphere. Slowly, painfully slowly, and in a chaotic, non-linear fashion — I became aware of my own fluid, nebulous, amorphous, almost alien nature. Sometimes, even contradictory. A walking paradox.

The hardest part still is accepting this aspect of my existence. Always at odds with the concrete jungle of tepid modernity threatening to swallow me at any moment.

So, why on Earth did I feel the need to put myself in a neat little box so I could be so digestible for strangers on the internet? Like I was a pretty box of holiday chocolates or one of those insanely overpriced luxury brand gift boxes with tiny silly things stuffed in excessive amounts of glittery tissue paper… Likely because that is exactly the common course of action or the “advise” floating around, both on the internet and in real life conversation in coffee shops.

Would it be nice? Probably. Would it be honest? No.

I am neither a light worker, nor a shadow worker or chaos agent (I believe in balance — I lean in neither direction). I am neither a frilly-Barbie-pink-and-glitter girly, nor am I a sensuous femme fatale, nor am I a wild shamanic woman wearing white linen dresses and dreadlocks, nor am I inherently masculine. I am not male, nor do I identify as a man. Although, I did adopt many masculine habits and behaviors, but those were survival tactics; coping mechanisms in an unkind world that didn't seem to have space for a small, sensitive, creative, intuitive little girl.

Armoring was the only thing I could do, to feel a little safer.

Like many before me (and likely many more after me), that coping mechanism slowly became a curse. More of a heavy burden I no longer wanted to bear, than a security blanket. I wanted to release all that heaviness, shedding it like a snake skin that had grown to suffocate me. Inch by inch, it sloughed off. The process seemed to quicken some in the last 3 or 4 years. I had managed to survive lockdown, walked away from a situationship that had dragged on for far too long and only trapped me in a deep depression, stopped keep tabs on old friends that couldn't seem to grow with me (or reciprocate the effort). Even extended family members fell away (more so after the recent passing of my grandmother). Transferred from community college to university to complete my undergraduate degree. I suddenly became an aunt to a deeply neurodivergent little boy…

Except it was the old paradigms, habits, and ingrained self-image that were actually the more difficult to transcend or transmute. Those took the most time and conscious work to acknowledge, to understand, and to release. So much of my old identity had been tied up in the armoring, the scared childhood and angry teenage narratives, the horrible memories of past events, the unprocessed emotions, the unmet needs… Stuff that I realize is the past, a past that I have allowed to haunt me like a poltergeist. A past that can be processed, and put to rest.

Because the past is a place of reference, not a place of residence.

Perhaps with each blog post or Substack letter, or even podcast episode, I’ll share more about where I’ve been and how I’ve come to this space in this winding road of a life path. I certainly intend to explore more and share where I’m headed next. That, I suppose, is the purpose of The Liminal Sphere. To create a space to explore and dive into the nebulous, the underbelly and under currents, the esoteric, the transitional and transformative. A realm for the midnight and twilight dwellers, the dawn and dew lovers, the tea drinkers in a sea of coffee addicts, the quiet creatives, the curious and inquisitive, the found family seeking community, the sensitive and intuitive soul with a spark and some spice.

A space for the liminal soul native to the Liminal Spheres.