🌌 Living Between Worlds: What the Liminal Feels Like

Ever felt like you’re standing in a hallway where all the doors are half-open? 

πŸšͺ✨ That’s what the first days of October feel like. It’s not the drama of endings or the clarity of beginnings — it’s the in-between. The air carries a strange electricity, like Wi-Fi that says *“connected”*, but refuses to load the page. On the outside, you’re moving through ordinary routines, but on the inside, you know you’re standing at a threshold. It’s a corridor between two cycles, and though it looks quiet, it hums with possibility. The air feels charged, but clarity hasn’t quite arrived.


Explore the wisdom of liminal space and how to trust transitions.

πŸšͺ Entering the Corridor  

The first week of October doesn’t shout — it hums. Like Wi-Fi that’s connected, but not yet loading. We sense change, but can’t fully name it. That’s the liminal. 

The liminal is awkward, because it doesn’t give us the comfort of certainty. You’re not fully out of the old cycle, but you haven’t stepped fully into the new one either. It’s like waiting for a train at a station where no one updates the timetable. You keep glancing down the track, but the only sound you hear is the echo of your own breath.  

Yet the corridor is sacred. It’s the space where your soul catches up with itself. Too often, we treat transition as something to “get through” quickly, as if the only goal is to land somewhere else. But the in-between is its own destination. It’s a place where endings can soften and new beginnings can grow roots before they sprout. If we rush, we tear those roots up before they’ve had time to take hold.  

I’ve noticed in my own life that the unseen often feels safer than the seen — when I sit quietly inside my inner world I feel held, while the visible places (forms, places, people) sometimes leave me confused, frustrated and exposed. That contrast taught me to honor the corridor: it’s the place where the seen and unseen learn to meet without violence.


πŸŒ™ The Pause Before Movement  

Pauses are sacred. Between inhale and exhale, between decision and action — that’s where reflection grows. Too often we rush to close doors when liminality is where we gather strength.

Pauses are not failures — they are rhythm. Think about the space between the beats in music. Without silence, rhythm collapses into noise. In the same way, the pause before movement gives shape to the action that follows. October begins with a pause, a moment to breathe before the season’s faster currents arrive.  

In that pause, reflection grows. You start to notice details you overlooked while rushing. The way you body relaxes when you finally admit you don’t have to decide today. The relief of putting down a heavy suitcase you’ve been carrying, even if just for a moment. These are not small things. They are reminders that rest is not passive — it’s an active way of preparing the soul to move with clarity instead of panic.  


πŸŒ€ Between Light and Darkness  

Here, shadows don’t scare us. They show us what’s unfinished. The light is already winning — darkness only lingers in corners. The liminal is proof the balance is resetting.

Standing between worlds also means standing between light and shadow. In the corridor, shadows don’t chase you — they simply hover, reminding you what hasn’t yet been seen. Darkness doesn’t mean danger here; it means unfinished business. These shadows are like old tabs open on your computer, draining your energy until you finally notice and close them.  

But the gift of the corridor is that the light is already present. You can feel it seeping in through the cracks of half-open doors. The darkness lingers, yes, but it no longer has the power to overtake you. It is the fading echo of systems that are collapsing because they cannot hold against rising vibration. The balance is resetting. The struggle between light and darkness isn’t equal anymore — the light is winning. Slowly, patiently, but undeniably.  


πŸ’­Outro Reflection  

Where in your life do you feel like you’re standing in a hallway right now? 

Can you resist the urge to rush through it — and instead notice the hum of possibility around you?


πŸ“– More writing + soft medicine arrives here every week.

 ✨ If you’d like to explore more reflections, soul whispers, or cosmic comedy, you can find me in many places:
πŸ“š My books are available on Amazon: 
Philomena Petersen – Author Page

πŸŒ€ Wander through my world of reflections: hingslotus.carrd.co

🎬 Watch the Reflector in motion — cosmic skits, truths, and spiritual satire on YouTube @hingslotus


πŸŒ• Until next time — 

πŸ•―️ With gentleness,
~ HingsLotus 🌸


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

🌟 "The Invisible Connection: How My Books Guide You Through Healing, Love & Self-Discovery" 🌟

Embracing Life's Reflections: A Journey Through My Eyes