In “Into the deep,” a prose piece I wrote about bipolar disorder, I wrote about liminal spaces, the in-betweens, and how these places are “a good place, a safe place to be,” and in that context, liminality can be a security blanket, a pane of glass providing distinction and boundary.
I’m now in a liminal place between two big shifts as I leave Halifax, my home of five years, for a new school, new city, new focus. At the time I first sat to write this down, it felt like everything but a security blanket. But now that I’m here in this space, it feels luxurious. I’m writing this from a train that is carrying me from Truro to Ottawa and my choice of slow travel now seems so appropriate for the in-between. Read More »