Lessons from a Year of Liminal Living

Our careers often shape our lives, driving us towards nonstop pursuit and progress. Life, then, revolves around a theme of constant doing, never enough-ness, problem-solving, fixing, certitude … you get the message. But let's face it, this kind of life is unrealistic and unsustainable.

To escape this toxic cycle, I had to step off the production line and stop participating in the expected and dictated. I had to be willing to let go of the reputation, career, and life I had built around a particular identity.

I knew something had to come to an end. Living a mass-produced existence – a life built on falsehoods and platitudes that I had somehow agreed to and was most certainly complicit in – no longer felt true to who and how I wanted to be.

Have you ever found yourself in a space of uncertainty where the old has become defunct, and the new has not yet emerged?

Welcome to the liminal – a space of both peril and opportunity.

Some people become depressed or unable to act in this space. Others react from their most fearful, angry, survival-mode needs. Still others respond mindfully and with discernment to whatever the moment calls for, which is also why I call this the “oh f*ck, what have I done” space.

I experienced a little bit of all the above. A full smorgasbord of “what the f*ckness.”

Turns out that, yes, this is an alchemical space – an opportunity for reflection and dreaming and not-knowingness, which may give way to transformation. So, consider yourself warned! The liminal is also where you will most likely meet a new, unfamiliar version of yourself. You’ll surely encounter grief, shadow-work, possibly even some dark-night-of-the-soul sh!t.

Call me a masochist, but I knew the liminal was the place for me, because I sensed that this was a ripe space where genuine newness could emerge. A space where the old ways of doing things could fall away, revealing a bigger picture.

And by “newness” I don’t mean escapism, where I am running from something that no longer feels comfortable, only punctuated by brief moments of clarity. Quite the opposite. I firmly believe that we cannot create the new from the old. As Peter Drucker said, “The greatest danger in times of turbulence is not the turbulence, it is to act with yesterday’s logic.”

Aren’t you tired of the same old ways of doing things?

Yesterday's logic isn’t serving us anymore. It's time to break free from over-rationalizing and self-centered thinking. To move away from the status quo and embrace new ways of being, where we are willing to challenge our own thinking and stop the habitual.

What I intuited was the need for a more heart-centered, inclusive, and community-minded approach to meeting the moment. It wasn’t about finding answers, but about asking questions. And sitting with those questions.

(In case you are wondering, no, none of this was inspired by an acid trip, though I hear that it can result in similar conclusions.)

I found solace in waiting, openness, patience, and restraint. I allowed myself to shed layers and tears, to listen, and to sit in stillness. Through this exploration, I was able to stop idealizing "normalcy" and allowed myself to reconsider and redefine things. Sometimes, stepping back, taking stock, and slowing down is exactly what we need to reimagine what’s possible.

What also became clear is that the liminal is a place of transition, which is the space of grief. It is full of the unknown, the unfamiliar, and ripe with change. It is deconstructive, sometimes destructive, but also life-affirming. The relationship we have with this type of uncertainty, the loss, pain, and fear impacts all our relationships. How we hold ourselves, how we lead, and what we value is tied to our experience with the liminal.

It is the space between “me” and “we,” and discovering how to narrow the distance between those two.

Some of the things I learned this year are thanks to what happened in the liminal, and the magic that can reveal itself when we hold space, be it for ourselves or others – the opportunity for healing, the surrender to uncertainty, the creativity and emergence that follows.

This was not a year of enlightenment for me, but I had illuminating realizations, one being that we don’t have to be alone on this journey. To push back against the misguided trope of the hyper-individualistic self, a trope that is especially valued in North America, we need to find our way back into spaces that nurture collective care and compassion.

That is why I founded The Grievery – because we are not alone in this. We need each other to get through the times ahead. Grieving in community is not a novel idea, but it is one that is very much needed now. We need to turn and tend to each other during times where the tides of intensity are rising, when grief and loss are mounting. I believe that this offers a pathway to belonging, wholeness and healing, that I know many of us, myself included, long for.

#heartcentered #collectivecare #leadership #communitymindset #grief