Guest Post: Nature's Liminal Space is Good for Us
BY LINDA LOMBARDO, FOREST THERAPIST
Most of us know the benefits of spending time in nature, even in our own backyards. We feel the fresh, crisp air on our faces, the long end-of-day shadows cast by the setting sun, all the flowers and trees in bloom. We feel refreshed, awakened, at peace. But, liminal space? What is it, and why would I want to go there?
Liminal space is categorized in forest therapy as the place in-between, a place when we perceive we are leaving the tamed, cultivated world and our daily lives behind and yet, what’s still to come is a mystery. It is familiar and just beyond the boundary of ordinary experience. It is a place filled with potential.
Now, with so many of us at home: working, homeschooling, sheltering in place in a way we have never done before, the temptation to keep busy is almost irresistible. Busy is an external stimulus. Something other than ourselves is entertaining or occupying our minds. We can lose track of space and time when we’re busy, and it doesn’t relax us or soothe our emotional state of being.
Liminal space in nature takes us into our bodies and, specifically, our hearts. We are suspended in time in nature’s beauty. It is restorative and restful. It calms our minds and lowers cortisol, the stress hormone in our bodies.
I recently spent time over a two-week period with a daffodil. Every day, I went outside and photographed the daffodil as it went from bud to blossom.
In that time, I lost all sense of what was hijacking my mind: this insidious virus, my food shopping list (do I go or wait?), dishes in the sink, or unfolded laundry (definitely, I wait). Instead, I was on a magical journey with this flower, as it grew, expanded, burst through its tunic (the outer layer surrounding the bud), and finally, as it began to open and bloom.
Where else could I suspend time and space? As it turned out, a pair of blackbirds, quite oblivious to the human world’s challenges, found this a perfect time to cuddle.
It might sound a bit like escapism, and there’s an element of that in the liminal. What’s more beneficial is that the land itself begins to interact with us when we’re in liminal space and time. It ‘notices’ our intention to connect and offers signs and meaningful encounters if we’re open to receiving them. For example, a branch falls from a tree just as you’re contemplating whether or not you should let go of something or someone, or you might see a certain plant again and again, or you might even encounter beings, certain wildlife that interacts with you in a way that feels personal, or special. Time spent in liminal space opens us back up to our wild indigenous souls, a time before we were tamed, and a time when we noticed everything, too.
Right now, in our own backyards, there’s so much to notice: for example, the Baltimore oriole’s nest that’s been hanging in the neighbor’s tree, probably for years, or, the lilac bush that’s getting ready to bloom.
Whatever is waiting for you in nature, even in your own backyard, is waiting just for you. Leave the dishes in the sink and the unfolded laundry. Spend time with your nature and let it inform your senses about how to be in this unusual time of sheltering in place. Be still. Be quiet. Nature is waiting for you to notice it.
Find Linda Lombardo, forest therapist and owner of Long Island Forest Walks on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.