The In-Between

The In-Between

Navigating transitions – personal, professional, societal – can be tricky work.

So often when we find ourselves in that liminal space – the space in-between where we were and where we’re going – we want an answer. We want a clearly defined destination, proof that we won’t languish in the in-between forever.

We want certainty that everything will be ok.

Part of this is because liminal spaces are often filled with uncomfortable emotions; loss, grief, uncertainty.  Sometimes in-between spaces are also unstable, financially and socially, generating fear and anxiety.

It’s natural that we want a way through and beyond these experiences.

But another part of why we resist them is that we often think they hold less value than the spaces that come before and after.  That they’re a ‘holding point’, more than an alchemic space, and if we can just get where we’re meant to be going, the problems will be solved, solutions found and Hey presto! Everything is fixed!

But liminal spaces can’t be rushed.

Often in the liminal our old beliefs have been stripped away, we’re made to reckon with our identity and our views of the world.

They’re a time of gestation, allowing us to arrive to the other side expanded, renewed and hopefully with a larger embrace of the world than we had before.

The question better asked of liminal spaces is not how quickly we can exit them, but how deeply we can inhabit them.

How willingly we engage in the process of letting go, of holding lightly what is close to us, and accepting what is unknown, and unknowable.

Because we’re all navigating transitions; careers, relationships, landscapes, seasons, houses, bodies, identities, politics.

Societally, climate change has already determined that we will transition – whether we do so willingly or not, and whether to something more beautiful or not.

And what lays before us is born not out of the past, but out of how deeply and honestly we can inhabit the space in between.  

So if you find yourself navigating a liminal space right now, here are some reflection prompts to help:

  1. What’s asking to be held a little lighter?
  2. If nothing in my life were to change, what qualities would I need to develop to embrace and welcome the space I’m in?

Laura x

PS: Want support navigating transitions in your life? Learn more about my coaching work here. 

On Mystery & Uncertainty

On Mystery & Uncertainty

I came across a passage by Martin Shaw recently, the mythologist and storyteller, where he asked “What if we reframed ‘living with uncertainty’ to ‘navigating mystery’? There’s more energy in that phrase. The hum of imaginative voltage.”

This reframe has stuck with me as I work on some (exciting!) news and offerings (stay tuned!).

We live in a time of great, beautiful, unsettling uncertainty.  Reframing this as mystery – for me, at least – adds an element of adventure.  In mystery lies possibility and imagination, two seeds of change.

This reframing also ties in nicely with a poem I want to share, written by Ayisha Siddiqa, titled On Another Panel About Climate, They Ask Me to Sell the Future and All I’ve Got is a Love Poem

What if the future is soft and revolution is so kind that there is no end to us in sight.

Whole cities breathe and bad luck is bested by a promise to the leaves.

To withstand your own end is difficult.

The future frolics about, promised to no one, as is her right.

Rage against injustice makes the voice grow harsher yet.

If the future leaves without us, the silence that will follow will be an unspeakable nothing.

What if we convince her to stay?

How rare and beautiful it is that we exist.

What if we stun existence one more time?

When I wake up, get out of bed, my seven year old cousin

with her ruptured belly tags along.

Then follows my grandmother, aunts, my other cousins
and the violent shape of their drinking water.

The earth remembers everything,
our bodies are the color of the earth and we
are nobodies.

Been born from so many apocalypses, what’s one more?

Love is still the only revenge. It grows each time the earth is set on fire.

But for what it’s worth, I’d do this again.
Gamble on humanity one hundred times over

Commit to life unto life, as the trees fall and take us with them.

I’d follow love into extinction.

Today I want to leave you with two questions: are you willing to gamble on humanity? And how can you navigate the mystery of your life – today – with courage, imagination and a sense of possibility?