As 2021 ends and I sit in this no man’s land that is the week between Christmas and New Year’s, I think about liminal spaces.
Part of the reason I disliked our little blue house so much was that it lacked good ones. The only transitions were doorways. Walking into the house, the living room would great you like a beggar on the street, in your face, too close and unwelcome. The bathroom was directly off the kitchen, our bedroom directly off the dining area. There were no pleasantries or greetings exchanged between rooms. No hallways to transition between or vestibules through which to ease your way in.
True to its etymology ("liminal" being derived from the Latin word limen, meaning "threshold"), the concept of a liminal space encompasses physical spaces that, due to their function, are transitional in nature - hallways, waiting rooms, parking lots and rest stops are the archetypical examples of such places. Liminal space aesthetics relate to the unique feelings of eeriness, nostalgia, and apprehension people report when presented with such places outside of their designed context; most notably, their function as intermediary points between origin and destination. For instance, an empty stairwell or hospital corridor at night might look sinister or uncanny because these places are usually brimming with life and movement. Therefore, the absence of external stimuli (such as conversations, people moving around, or any kind of dynamism) creates an otherworldly and forlorn atmosphere.
I’m finally reading Motherless Daughters. I found a copy of it in the basement when we moved and figured that, almost 50 years after my mother’s death (she died on January 24, 1974), and another 30 of meaning to read it, it was finally time.
As 2021 ends and I sit here reading this book and thinking and writing about my childhood experiences, I think about liminal spaces. How my mother’s death trapped me in a liminal space from which writing releases me. How the death of a parent at a young age is a portal into a liminal space. An event that launched me too early from my origin – my mother – toward my destination – adulthood – a destination I had to reach alone and, for the most part, without a mother’s guidance.
I have lived my entire adult life in this liminal space.
Registering.
And Happy New Year.
Things That Nourished My Writing: December 14-December 31.
DESIGN
Plykea. I want this for my kitchen wall cabinets.
Calacatta Macchia Vecchia Marble. I can’t afford very much, but I want a slab of this somewhere in our new house.
FILM
Succession. I started watching it.
This Man Keeps Getting Struck By Lightning. New Yorker Films.
FOOD
Pho. The weather in Seattle these past two weeks has made it required eating.
LITERARY
Motherless Daughters: The Legacy of Loss by Hope Edelman
MUSIC
PLACES
The Lodge at St. Edward State Park. We had eggnog there on Christmas night and it was fabulous.