Living in the Liminal: Why Threshold Spaces Are Essential to Edgeworklife

"We pack for our insecurities," my friend told me. And he's right – both literally and metaphorically.

As I reflected on this wisdom while preparing for my bi-coastal adventure…

(As an aside, I still love calling it our bicoastal life even though I suspect it will become quickly annoying to Jared who, when he said those words as a way of describing our bat shit crazy life between the condo in Seattle, WA and the van in the Sunshine Coast, Australia, he didn’t realize it would become so pervasive in my writing!)

… I realized something profound: we're not just packing for insecurities – we're packing for liminality. We're preparing ourselves to inhabit that uncomfortable, transformative space between who we were and who we're becoming.

The Edge as Threshold

When I wrote about taking the leap after 40+ years in education, I described standing "on the edge of my biggest adventure yet." But what I didn't fully articulate then was the nature of that edge itself. It's not just a jumping-off point and the next adventure isn’t just waiting over the edge. Rather, the edge represents a liminal space, a threshold where transformation happens.

Liminal spaces are those in-between moments, the transitional zones where normal rules are suspended and new possibilities emerge. They're uncomfortable by design, because growth requires us to leave the familiar behind before we've fully arrived at what's next.

In edgework, these liminal spaces aren't accidents – they're essential. They're where the magic happens, and I think we underestimate their significance.

(As another aside, this all sounds good and sensible, and writing this helps me understand and process my thoughts and feelings, but let me say this: I am smack dab in the middle of my own liminal space and it’s a crazy ride. Don’t get wrong – I am having so much fun and am thrilled to be down under and on the cusp of van life adventure – but wowza it’s a lot).

Packing for the Unknown

When I packed those eight pairs of socks, piles of journals, and tech chargers, I was doing what we all do when facing liminality: trying to bring certainty into uncertainty. Each item represented a "what if" – a way to control, or at least prepare, for the uncontrollable transition ahead.

But here's what I’m learning about liminal spaces and edgeworklife: they require a different kind of packing. Instead of packing for every possible scenario, we need to bring along the qualities that help us navigate uncertainty itself:

Curiosity over Certainty: Rather than trying to predict every outcome, let’s pack wonder, openness, and curiosity about what we might discover.

Flexibility over Fixed Plans: Let’s pack adaptability instead of rigid itineraries. Let’s embrace time as fluid versus highly structured and predictable.

Trust over Total Control: Let’s pack faith in our ability to figure things out as we go.

The paradox is that we need enough preparation to feel brave, but not so much that we're paralyzed by trying to control every variable. Liminal spaces teach us that some things can't be planned – they can only be lived.

The Community of Liminality

In previous writings about edgework, I emphasized that "it is a lot more fun to peer over the edge, grab hands, and jump together." This isn't just about shared adventure – it's about shared liminality.

When we enter threshold spaces together, we create what anthropologist Victor Turner called "communitas" – a sense of equality and connection that emerges when normal social structures are suspended. In these moments, hierarchies dissolve, authentic relationships form, and collective transformation becomes possible.

My journey with Jared isn't just about building a bi-coastal life – it's about creating a shared liminal experience where we can discover new aspects of ourselves and our relationship. When we grab hands and jump together, we're not just sharing risk – we're sharing the profound vulnerability of becoming.

My Three Touchstones in Liminal Space

As I navigate this new adventure (my gap year, as I keep calling it) guided by Joy, Flexibility, and Generosity, I'm discovering how these touchstones function specifically within liminal spaces:

Joy becomes our compass when traditional markers disappear. In threshold spaces, joy points us toward what's emerging rather than what we're leaving behind. Joy becomes a lens through which we can be grateful for the experience, even when that experience presents challenges.

Flexibility becomes our survival skill. Liminal spaces are fluid by nature – they demand that we bend without breaking, adjust without abandoning our core values, and trust that our vision – or goals – serve as beacons on the horizon.

Generosity becomes our bridge. When we're between worlds, generosity connects us to others who are also navigating their own thresholds.

Living the Questions

The German poet Rainer Maria Rilke wrote, "Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer." This is the essence of liminal spaces and edgeworklife – learning to inhabit the questions rather than rushing to answers.

Liminal spaces are inherently uncomfortable. They strip away our familiar identities and roles, leaving us temporarily without clear definition. But this discomfort is fertile ground for growth and an invitation to live the questions.

(As a final aside, as I sit here writing on the veranda surrounded by verdant rain forest, my liminal space was ubruptly interrupted by a huge palm frond tearing its way to the ground - clearly a reminder to be present, pay attention, and occasionally duck).

An Invitation to Stand in Your Own Threshold

As you read this, you might be standing at your own edge, carrying your own carefully packed insecurities. Perhaps you're between jobs, between relationships, between versions of yourself. Perhaps you're leading an organization through transition, or supporting a child through their own growth and uncertainty.

Whatever your threshold, I invite you to consider: What would it mean to embrace the liminality rather than rush through it? What would it mean to pack not for control, but for discovery? What would it mean to grab hands with others and jump together into the unknown?

What threshold are you standing at today? What are you packing for your own liminal journey?