Writing in the Liminality
Honoring the sacred pauses in life and creativity
If you’re new to The Rebel MFA Way, welcome! This is an essay in my ongoing “Writing Fiction to Heal in Real Time” series where I deep-dive into my writing fiction to heal method as field work and a case study. To begin, I will be working through my story, The Archive, which you can find more information on here.
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The attributes of liminality are necessarily ambiguous... Liminal entities are neither here nor there; they are betwixt and between the positions assigned and arrayed by law, custom, convention and ceremonial.
— Victor Turner
There’s a strange quiet after you’ve spent so long running. Ari and I both feel it—the way the body keeps bracing, even when the threat has passed. The world is changed, and so are we. Now, in this in-between, we have to learn how to live again.
It’s uncomfortable AF. It seems both Ari and I are feeling that itchy restless feeling and it’s because neither of us are very good with uncertainty and loss of control. You’d think that both of us, by now, would have learned that control is an illusion. Yet…
We still cling to it.
In the thick of it, I reach for my tarot deck like a lifeline. The cards offer a map when the world feels uncharted, a whisper of guidance when my own voice is drowned out by fear. Ari, too, has her rituals—small acts of magic and meaning-making that tether her to something beyond survival. But in the quiet, we both let these tools gather dust, as if the absence of crisis means the absence of need.
There’s a rhythm to it, this turning toward and away from the sacred. In the urgency, we seek signs and symbols; in the lull, we forget.
But perhaps this space — liminal — is where we need them most. Not as answers, but as companions in the waiting.
Quiet Gestation
In this in-between, the liminal space feels like standing on the edge of something vast and unknown. It’s neither restful nor fully restless, but a curious mix of both—a necessary tension that hums quietly beneath the surface of daily life. Writing becomes a practice of gentle unraveling, where each word feels both like a step forward and a step into the void.
In my body, this space manifests as a subtle undercurrent, a low hum of unease mixed with anticipation. It’s the sensation of holding one’s breath, of muscles coiled and ready, waiting for a signal to release. In writing, there’s an echo of this tension—the blinking cursor a silent metronome to thoughts suspended in mid-air.
I want to believe this is a quiet gestation where ideas compost and dreams unfurl beneath the surface. It’s a period of transformation that remains largely unseen—a chrysalis where the inner world reshuffles and reimagines itself, preparing for an emergence that has yet to define its shape.
Mirroring (again)
At Demi’s farm, Ari and I walk parallel paths through our own liminal spaces—a place imbued with a quiet magic that mirrors the unsettling and unpredictable rhythms of our inner worlds. Just as I reach for my tarot deck, Ari reaches for the soil, tending to the plants with the same care she extends to her own soul. In this vast pause, she's learning to find comfort in simplicity, discovering the power of stillness and the art of letting things be. There’s resistance, though—a shared longing for the clarity and control that continue to elude us both.
While Ari finds solace in the tactile—the feel of earth between her fingers, the rhythm of planting and harvesting—I turn to the act of writing as my sanctuary. Here, our paths diverge: she connects with the tangible, while I navigate the abstract. Yet in our divergence lies a shared lesson—the acceptance of not knowing, of allowing life to unfold at its own pace. At Demi’s farm, we learn that sometimes the most profound growth comes from standing still, embracing the beauty of the in-between. You can’t harvest what you haven’t planted or nurtured, right?
The Tethered One as Metaphor
In the tarot, The Tethered One (The Hanged Man in traditional tarot) invites surrender and letting go of control, calling us to trust the process and find wisdom in waiting.
Ari and I are both learning this lesson, slowly and awkwardly, as we navigate the in-between. The Tethered One is not about doing; it’s about being—finding peace in the pause, even when every instinct urges us to move, to act, to know.
This suspended state isn’t an end but a necessary part of the journey. In this liminal space, Ari and I embody The Tethered One—suspended, waiting, learning to see the world from a new perspective. It’s uncomfortable, this not-knowing, this not-doing. But perhaps true magic lies in the surrender, in the space between breaths.
I decided to experiment actually working with The Tethered One energy and used the “Flow & Go” two-card spread from Tarot for Light Seers by Chris-Anne.
Card one is all about what we (as the tethered one) would benefit from letting go of. Where are we over-controlling or clinging too tightly?
Card two is what areas of our lives (as the tethered one) should we welcome alternative viewpoints?
I tell myself not to be surprised when the woo-woo stirs up all the feelings. Yet, every time it actually happens, I am surprised. And this reading was no different.
After pulling these cards, I knew immediately what they meant for both of us and it was another painful reminder of what it means to do the work of being human. That we cannot rush what isn’t meant to be uncovered. We have to just… let it happen.
Honoring the Pause
As I sit with these thoughts, I realize it's not easy to give ourselves permission to dwell in the in-between. We're conditioned to push forward, to seek clarity and resolution. But maybe what we need—what I need—is to simply honor the pause. To let the uncertainty be, to allow myself to exist in this liminal space without rushing for answers.
So, I offer this invitation to you, as I offer it to myself: allow yourself to be here. To inhabit the in-between without judgment or haste. Let this be a place of gentle curiosity and patient unfolding. Embrace the stillness, the discomfort, the anticipation. Trust that the pause holds its own wisdom, its own kind of magic. Let's see what unfolds when we choose to linger here, together.
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Forgetting and remembering... welcoming the liminal... and wishing the pull of worldly distractions was less... setting intention to remember more... {{{hugs}}}