Leaving for the airport to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family, I fell over a baby gate (being used as a doggie gate) and landed full-force on the gate, crunching the side of my right foot. It did not occur to me that staying home was an option. I wrapped an ice pack around my foot, donned it with an old stretched-out sock, and called ahead for wheelchair transport.
I had no awareness of being in shock but found an odd comfort in being wheeled around the airports not having to figure out schedules, gates, or being pressured by time. Athough I was initially put on the wrong plane, I was discovered before it took off and wheeled to the correct one in plenty of time to start my trip without further complications.
Sleeping, my usual way to pass time on long-distance flights was out of the question. My attention was only on being a conduit for the pain messages being sent back and forth between my foot and my brain.
After a long day of traveling and maneuvering through two airports, I finally reached my destination. Grabbing my suitcase off the carousal I carefully inched my way to the passenger pickup location outside. My sister was circling the airport awaiting my call. It was her “special sister look” when she saw my foot that brought me back to reality.
At midnight I was gowned and posing for X-rays at the local Emergency Room. The night staff was friendly and laid back. When I returned to cubical #16, my sister was pouring over pictures of my nurse’s latest trip.
We were quickly shown the X-rays that graphically exposed the fifth metatarsal broken in 3 places with a floating fragment. My sister’s spontaneous response said it all, “Yew, it looks like a chicken bone!” Her comment made me both squirm and laugh.
I finally realized how my mind and body had slipped into shock. The suspension between reality and somewhere else was protecting me from everything until I could deal with it. Consciousness lingered just below the surface. One part of me seemed to be there, another seemed to be watching and another seemed to be turning it’s back to what was happening—all at the same time.
They put a splint on my foot, I was given crutches and a prescription for Tylenol with Codeine and we were sent home. We arrived at my sister’s about 4:30 am.
After a fitful night of dozing and waking up many times, I awoke with a vivid dream fragment: I was floating aimlessly in the gentle waves of a beautiful, warm, turquoise ocean. A peaceful sand beach was within view and each wave brought me in closer and closer. On the beach was a weathered wooden marker with a word written on it vertically. From my position I could not quite make out what it said. As I got closer I could read it clearly. It said LIMINALITY.
Now the funny thing is, when I was packing for this trip the night before I left home, my mind had been milling around thoughts of my life now being at a crossroads. In following my thought process, one of the things that came into focus was the concept of liminalitiy. During my mid-life crisis years I had found the description of liminality useful in helping me understand my experiences during that rocky time. Following my impulse to look up liminality again, I began to do a little research on the computer. The results were fascinating. I had copied some to read on the trip.
I was happy when I woke up with the dream fragment that my intuition was being validated and I was on the right track to discovering what my unconscious wanted me to see. I couldn’t help but wonder if breaking my foot and the crossroads I was feeling in my life now were connected? Clearly, I was being encouraged and guided to take a closer look at liminality. I hoped I would find helpful information there. I pulled the papers from my backpack and began to read.
Liminality, according to Wickipedia, came from the Latin word limen, meaning “a threshold” involving a change to a person. (I wondered if they had inadvertently left out the part about the baby gate?)
“The liminal state is characterized by ambiguity, openness and indeterminacy. One’s state of identity dissolves to some extent, bringing about disorientation. Liminality is a period of transition where normal limits to thought, self-understanding and behavior are relaxed. This situation, which can lead to a new perspective, occurs in three stages. In the first stage there is a separation from the usual. The second or “liminal stage” is a period of “betwixt and between”. It feels like you are “neither here nor there”. This is the distinctive characteristic of liminality. In the third stage, known as the “postliminal stage”, new perspectives about oneself are realized, integrated, and the emergence of self as a new person ensues.”
Laying on the couch with my foot elevated in a drugged and pained stupor, I allowed my mind to loosen its grip a little. Instantly I began to sink into my liminal experience. Passing through the place of between-ness felt uncomfortable, unstable, disorienting and somewhat dangerous at first. I realized my mind was chasing after my emotions to keep them from holding onto the perception of control.
I shut my eyes and tried to pull from my memory all the things that had happened in the last twenty-four hours that fit under the liminality umbrella. I was quite surprised at the number of things that popped into my mind.
Falling through a threshold over a gate could perhaps be considered the epitome of liminality. The wounding itself turned my world up side down and separated me from my usual routine.
Being in shock was a definite liminal state when mind and body shut down so pain and trauma could help with the coping.
Traveling is a liminal activity because of moving from one place to another. Airports are liminal places because people pass through them and do not live there.
Going to the Emergency Room gave me the impression of being in an in-between surreal world.
Midnight marks the time between night and day.
My sister single-handedly creating all of our family’s traditional holiday recipes made me aware of the importance of the time aspect of liminality. Death, from my reading, was the first reference to the concept of liminality. Changing from body to spirit and moving on to another world is the quintessential liminal experience. Bringing tradition forward from those family members who have passed on was a liminal gift my sister gave all of us. (I must add, the dinner was spectacular and put us all in a blissful liminal zone!)
Being with my sister has always lured me into a familiar child-body memory of safety and not being alone in an unstable world. The liminal comfort of this familiar place has never been duplicated in my life and is something I know I can draw on when I’m scared.
I ate a warm, just-out-of-the-oven orange bowknot roll and tried to bring myself back into the moment. I grabbed my crutches and stood up, lost my balance and, tucking myself into a small ball, rolled to the floor in what seemed like slow motion. From that perspective the world looked totally disoriented.
I had to get honest with myself. I was hurt and I didn’t want it to be happening. Helplessness, which I had been trying to deny in an attempt to hang onto my dignity and denial, was going to have to change through acceptance of my predicament. Being dependent and not feeling in control was like slipping into unknown and unwanted territory. There was no doubt about it; I was definitely “betwixt and between”.
There was a fierce struggle going on inside. Identity with my external life as it had been, was fighting with accepting life as it is. The crossroads seemed to be all about the struggle. The paths of the crossroads, though, appeared equally neutral and intriguing in all directions. It looked as though no matter which way I chose to go would be perfectly fine. It was the unknown that was keeping me immobile. The struggle to know what to do, was keeping me stranded. Not trusting myself to make a decision was causing my distress.
My life had been suspended and I knew I had to give in, or I was going to give up. After all, my life had certainly in the past offered me a multitude of opportunities to learn about trusting, patience and letting go.
Practicing being in-between helped me begin to surrender and accept the truth about what was happening. Using and appreciating the walker and wheelchair my nephew had rented was a gigantic symbolic breakthrough. Transforming the unknown, stranded, terrifying inner feelings into accepting the situation as it was got me moving again, even though the going was slow.
As I relaxed into my liminal space, lessons of the soul began to pour into my awareness. I could actually feel how close they were to my consciousness as my usual way of life had shifted aside and made an open portal. I remembered how the in-between times in the past had been fruitful for my spiritual growth when the perceived important external restraints had been removed.
Then I remembered a conversation with a wise, deep-thinking friend many years ago. She had shared with me her theory about how the soul develops. She believed that life presents the lessons we need to learn. Depending on our awareness, readiness and willingness to grow, we do the best we can with what is presented. If our soul needs us to learn more, we are presented with the same lesson in a plethora of ways again and again.
If, after many times, we do not fully understand the lesson on the mental and emotional level, it manifests in our physical body. When the lesson manifests in the body it is nearly impossible to ignore, deny, refuse, not feel, or miss. The disorienting pain catapults us into liminal space and forces us to consider the experience as an important life lesson from the soul.
In hopes that the liminal situation I am in has the chance of bringing major transformation as is purported, I have made the decision to receptively hang out in this in-between place without a fight. Perhaps with the motivation to “get back on my feet” combined with a stronger acceptance to live peaceful in liminality, I will be fortunate enough to master the lesson that all my defenses, character, identity, behaviors and actions up until now has obscured.
I am going home in a few days. Keeping my broken foot elevated high, I am discovering the freedom liminality offers. It is actually becoming quite a comfortable place in which to live. In truth, it is becoming a new way to “be”. Who could have imagined falling through a threshold while at a crossroads would teach me so much?
I had no awareness of being in shock but found an odd comfort in being wheeled around the airports not having to figure out schedules, gates, or being pressured by time. Athough I was initially put on the wrong plane, I was discovered before it took off and wheeled to the correct one in plenty of time to start my trip without further complications.
Sleeping, my usual way to pass time on long-distance flights was out of the question. My attention was only on being a conduit for the pain messages being sent back and forth between my foot and my brain.
After a long day of traveling and maneuvering through two airports, I finally reached my destination. Grabbing my suitcase off the carousal I carefully inched my way to the passenger pickup location outside. My sister was circling the airport awaiting my call. It was her “special sister look” when she saw my foot that brought me back to reality.
At midnight I was gowned and posing for X-rays at the local Emergency Room. The night staff was friendly and laid back. When I returned to cubical #16, my sister was pouring over pictures of my nurse’s latest trip.
We were quickly shown the X-rays that graphically exposed the fifth metatarsal broken in 3 places with a floating fragment. My sister’s spontaneous response said it all, “Yew, it looks like a chicken bone!” Her comment made me both squirm and laugh.
I finally realized how my mind and body had slipped into shock. The suspension between reality and somewhere else was protecting me from everything until I could deal with it. Consciousness lingered just below the surface. One part of me seemed to be there, another seemed to be watching and another seemed to be turning it’s back to what was happening—all at the same time.
They put a splint on my foot, I was given crutches and a prescription for Tylenol with Codeine and we were sent home. We arrived at my sister’s about 4:30 am.
After a fitful night of dozing and waking up many times, I awoke with a vivid dream fragment: I was floating aimlessly in the gentle waves of a beautiful, warm, turquoise ocean. A peaceful sand beach was within view and each wave brought me in closer and closer. On the beach was a weathered wooden marker with a word written on it vertically. From my position I could not quite make out what it said. As I got closer I could read it clearly. It said LIMINALITY.
Now the funny thing is, when I was packing for this trip the night before I left home, my mind had been milling around thoughts of my life now being at a crossroads. In following my thought process, one of the things that came into focus was the concept of liminalitiy. During my mid-life crisis years I had found the description of liminality useful in helping me understand my experiences during that rocky time. Following my impulse to look up liminality again, I began to do a little research on the computer. The results were fascinating. I had copied some to read on the trip.
I was happy when I woke up with the dream fragment that my intuition was being validated and I was on the right track to discovering what my unconscious wanted me to see. I couldn’t help but wonder if breaking my foot and the crossroads I was feeling in my life now were connected? Clearly, I was being encouraged and guided to take a closer look at liminality. I hoped I would find helpful information there. I pulled the papers from my backpack and began to read.
Liminality, according to Wickipedia, came from the Latin word limen, meaning “a threshold” involving a change to a person. (I wondered if they had inadvertently left out the part about the baby gate?)
“The liminal state is characterized by ambiguity, openness and indeterminacy. One’s state of identity dissolves to some extent, bringing about disorientation. Liminality is a period of transition where normal limits to thought, self-understanding and behavior are relaxed. This situation, which can lead to a new perspective, occurs in three stages. In the first stage there is a separation from the usual. The second or “liminal stage” is a period of “betwixt and between”. It feels like you are “neither here nor there”. This is the distinctive characteristic of liminality. In the third stage, known as the “postliminal stage”, new perspectives about oneself are realized, integrated, and the emergence of self as a new person ensues.”
Laying on the couch with my foot elevated in a drugged and pained stupor, I allowed my mind to loosen its grip a little. Instantly I began to sink into my liminal experience. Passing through the place of between-ness felt uncomfortable, unstable, disorienting and somewhat dangerous at first. I realized my mind was chasing after my emotions to keep them from holding onto the perception of control.
I shut my eyes and tried to pull from my memory all the things that had happened in the last twenty-four hours that fit under the liminality umbrella. I was quite surprised at the number of things that popped into my mind.
Falling through a threshold over a gate could perhaps be considered the epitome of liminality. The wounding itself turned my world up side down and separated me from my usual routine.
Being in shock was a definite liminal state when mind and body shut down so pain and trauma could help with the coping.
Traveling is a liminal activity because of moving from one place to another. Airports are liminal places because people pass through them and do not live there.
Going to the Emergency Room gave me the impression of being in an in-between surreal world.
Midnight marks the time between night and day.
My sister single-handedly creating all of our family’s traditional holiday recipes made me aware of the importance of the time aspect of liminality. Death, from my reading, was the first reference to the concept of liminality. Changing from body to spirit and moving on to another world is the quintessential liminal experience. Bringing tradition forward from those family members who have passed on was a liminal gift my sister gave all of us. (I must add, the dinner was spectacular and put us all in a blissful liminal zone!)
Being with my sister has always lured me into a familiar child-body memory of safety and not being alone in an unstable world. The liminal comfort of this familiar place has never been duplicated in my life and is something I know I can draw on when I’m scared.
I ate a warm, just-out-of-the-oven orange bowknot roll and tried to bring myself back into the moment. I grabbed my crutches and stood up, lost my balance and, tucking myself into a small ball, rolled to the floor in what seemed like slow motion. From that perspective the world looked totally disoriented.
I had to get honest with myself. I was hurt and I didn’t want it to be happening. Helplessness, which I had been trying to deny in an attempt to hang onto my dignity and denial, was going to have to change through acceptance of my predicament. Being dependent and not feeling in control was like slipping into unknown and unwanted territory. There was no doubt about it; I was definitely “betwixt and between”.
There was a fierce struggle going on inside. Identity with my external life as it had been, was fighting with accepting life as it is. The crossroads seemed to be all about the struggle. The paths of the crossroads, though, appeared equally neutral and intriguing in all directions. It looked as though no matter which way I chose to go would be perfectly fine. It was the unknown that was keeping me immobile. The struggle to know what to do, was keeping me stranded. Not trusting myself to make a decision was causing my distress.
My life had been suspended and I knew I had to give in, or I was going to give up. After all, my life had certainly in the past offered me a multitude of opportunities to learn about trusting, patience and letting go.
Practicing being in-between helped me begin to surrender and accept the truth about what was happening. Using and appreciating the walker and wheelchair my nephew had rented was a gigantic symbolic breakthrough. Transforming the unknown, stranded, terrifying inner feelings into accepting the situation as it was got me moving again, even though the going was slow.
As I relaxed into my liminal space, lessons of the soul began to pour into my awareness. I could actually feel how close they were to my consciousness as my usual way of life had shifted aside and made an open portal. I remembered how the in-between times in the past had been fruitful for my spiritual growth when the perceived important external restraints had been removed.
Then I remembered a conversation with a wise, deep-thinking friend many years ago. She had shared with me her theory about how the soul develops. She believed that life presents the lessons we need to learn. Depending on our awareness, readiness and willingness to grow, we do the best we can with what is presented. If our soul needs us to learn more, we are presented with the same lesson in a plethora of ways again and again.
If, after many times, we do not fully understand the lesson on the mental and emotional level, it manifests in our physical body. When the lesson manifests in the body it is nearly impossible to ignore, deny, refuse, not feel, or miss. The disorienting pain catapults us into liminal space and forces us to consider the experience as an important life lesson from the soul.
In hopes that the liminal situation I am in has the chance of bringing major transformation as is purported, I have made the decision to receptively hang out in this in-between place without a fight. Perhaps with the motivation to “get back on my feet” combined with a stronger acceptance to live peaceful in liminality, I will be fortunate enough to master the lesson that all my defenses, character, identity, behaviors and actions up until now has obscured.
I am going home in a few days. Keeping my broken foot elevated high, I am discovering the freedom liminality offers. It is actually becoming quite a comfortable place in which to live. In truth, it is becoming a new way to “be”. Who could have imagined falling through a threshold while at a crossroads would teach me so much?
