It's always difficult to talk about these rituals. Or to take pictures. It's so, in the moment. Each experience is unique, shaped by the land, the water, the light, the time of year, and the people with whom we are participating. It is always profound.

If you've done the Circular Time Workshops with me online, then you might have a vague sense of what I'm talking about - though quite possibly not, because the in-person experience is so totally different. We don't teach it online - just in person (and if you would like us to bring it to your community, let me know!)

This time, two indigenous elders joined us in co-holding the space. This is not an indigenous ritual, though we think it has ancient roots, and we are sure that there were many people who practiced it before it was given to us. (Indeed, it is important to both of us that we are offering powerful rituals that are not from any one cultural background, but in which many people from different lineages can participate and in which their ancestral lineages can engage). We were delighted that they were excited to join us. They brought their own flavor, intuition, and gifts in working with Spirit into the space with us. It was both unexpected and absolutely right - right on time. Perhaps unsurprisingly, though also not expected, there was some powerful healing for some of the people in the group.

Recently, we've been a part of multiple gatherings where we are co-hosting something and what feels like a kind of spontaneous healing emerges. It is one of the things that gives me a lot of hope: how many spaces like this keep emerging.

The liminal space opens up and there are people in the room who know how to work with it and how to navigate it for the benefit of the whole group. I don't take that for granted.

Sometimes it is like riding the waves that come, like surfers. And like surfers, there are often times when we are underwater, not able to see what's going to happen next. That's just part of being in the ocean!

Working well with emergence takes a lot of practice and skill. Skill in, amongst other things, navigating liminal spaces.

Which is part of why I find myself reflecting on liminal spaces - and some of their connection to climate change.

As you may know, the word "liminal" comes from the Latin word limen, which means threshold. It is a place between - between the past and the future, between beginnings and endings, between this world and another world. It is a betwixt and between time. Rituals and art often engage in liminal spaces and liminal spaces are an important part of many religious traditions. Religions often create rituals and traditions (weddings, advent, baptisms) to support people in moving from one space to another.

So - if the connection between liminality and climate change is new to you, here's a simple - perhaps a tad simplistic! - explanation of some aspects of the connection. For those of you who find academic articles interesting, here's one on these themes from the Sustainability journal on "Climate Change as Liminal Experience".

Humans tend to experience the natural world as relatively predictable and relatively consistent. Thus, summer becomes fall becomes winter becomes spring. Or, in other parts of the world, monsoon seasons and dry seasons are both highly predictable. This enables people to grow crops, follow livestock herds (which move with the seasons in a relatively predictable way), and plan their lives accordingly.

Climate change changes that. It changes the experience of nature. Of place. Of time itself. And certainly of the meaning that people make of their place (literally!) in the world.

We are in the early stages of climate change, so we are in a "time between times". The "new" weather patterns have not solidified. For example, it is clear that there are, now, many more storms than there used to be. But the exact pattern of storms (besides the general, "more intense"/ "more frequent") is itself still changing. We are all, thus, "betwixt and between".

Some religious/anthropological scholars argue that the whole world has entered a liminal space, wherein the future is immensely uncertain (in ways that are unlike other versions of future uncertainty.) There's some comparative challenges to this perspective, but it is an interesting one to play with. We are all in-between one era and the next era. The new pattern has not yet fully formed.

That shift is part of why some people see in climate change the potential for a collective shift in consciousness: surely, a shared concern about the changing environment would lead to people coming together around our common home and going through a transformational process now that we are in this collective liminal space. (As I'm sure you've noticed, this has not yet happened.)

What, then, occurs if that liminal space does not change? In some ways, that defies the definition of liminality, which is supposed to be a relatively brief state. But in the case of climate change, it is unclear how long it will take for a "new normal" in the weather/sea-rise patterns to become normal. We do know that high anxiety/climate anxiety/"solastalgia" can emerge in a state of ongoing change where the core issues are not addressed - that is already happening. It is unclear how long the long journey will be. New "normals", at least in terms of weather patterns, might not happen in the lifetime of most people who are alive today.

Art and ritual are technologies that can assist us in the interpretation of the experience of the fluctuation of multiple alternative worlds, both anticipated and spontaneous. Both are actively being explored as pathways to help us engage with climate change.

And here is something that is really important to pay attention to: When you go into the liminal spaces, you are not in complete control. You can influence and shape, but there are bigger forces at work. You don't know exactly what is going to show up.

Obvious, perhaps, but what this means is that what shows up in that kind of a space might not look like it has anything to do with "climate change" per se.

Someone might find themselves mourning around the loss of a parent, or experience their anger around their inability to get adequate health insurance. On the surface, this is not related to climate change. But that doesn't mean that in the bigger interconnected nature of reality, it's not connected. I think some of this is because human consciousness is actually rather fluid. We certainly know this is true in grief work: when experiencing one grief (the loss of a beloved pet), another grief (the increasing number of wildfires) can easily arise. The very fluidity is part of what is so powerful.

I think some of this is because human consciousness is actually rather fluid, and so people go in between different "issues" (personal grief and climate grief, for example) rather easily. It is that fluidity that is part of what is so powerful. And part of why you can't always predict it.

Which means that pre-determined outcomes can be hard to predict.

Which doesn't work well for a lot of funding models - be that for non-profits or businesses. Some faith communities are a bit better, but it really depends.

We have to create space for sacred emergence.

Which is to say: we have to find more ways of funding and uplifting spaciousness.

I feel this comes up for me every time I teach Circular Time. (Which if you haven't signed up for yet, this is a good time to do so!!!)

People need spaciousness to engage with everything from climate change to family stuff. To reflect - yes. But also - to heal. And to keep open what some systems thinkers talk about as that "envelop of possibility" a little bit longer before it closes in on itself.

I'm curious how - if! - you are thinking about what it means to create more spaciousness for your people (family, organization, community) in 2025. And what that looks like.

- Sara Jolena