On liminal spaces: at the airport between two homes
A diary-like rambling on invisible boundaries, forgotten privileges and liminality in life
Just received the notification on my phone “Welcome to Budapest Airport!” With my whole family escorting me to the check-in counters and then the security, I am about to leave the country I called my only home for almost 20 years.
With my passport in hand, I was the next one in the line to get my boarding pass for my flight back to Amsterdam. Having forgotten, maybe never even truly realized, the privilege of free movement. The privilege that is enabled by a small paper notebook, called the passport. The word roots in the French expression, the concept in the centuries of human movement and politics throughout history. And this, I find fascinating. Staying true to my curious nature, I wanted to further wonder about the act of international movement. Mainly because I myself am a commuter between two homes divided by borders of familiar but foreign nations.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffc976c6c-a9ab-45e6-9219-09f3db1a62b3_7196x4800.jpeg)
Borders are invisible boundaries. Birds flying across countries and even continents, fish and sea animals swimming from port to port do not need a piece of paper to move. Nature does not have borders, yet humans created them using words and guns. Borders are manmade.
Crossing the invisible boundaries while flying over foreign landmasses, we have not yet set foot on, and might never do, reminds me of the importance of learning history and thinking critically. Who has been living there, what have they done and why? Admittedly, my knowledge is rather limited but always ready to be expanded. A flight, for example, is a perfect occasion to read. So, I spent the time up above the clouds in the company of the dark morning sky, reading the words that tied themselves into a story I found profoundly healing.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fc4c7c9e4-8ebf-4c16-8465-8a445ca4a599_3976x4970.jpeg)
Liminal means ‘in-between, transitional’. Liminal spaces are spaces that are not the start nor the finish. An airport is a liminal space. Going, but not arriving. You are on your way, but not there yet. Where are you now? Where do you want to go? If we are at the airport, we need to know the answer to both of these questions. Why can’t we properly answer it then for our life if it is proven to be the most effective way to reach certain places? Existing in liminal spaces is like saying the journey is more important than the destination, a cliché for a reason. How could we be at this fun place, without having a clear direction?
The space between no longer and not yet. Liminal spaces are not only about going forward but also about stopping. Just as we stop in transit waiting to be able to board and go somewhere else. Bridging physical distances under shorter amounts of time erases our sense of the meaning of our movement. What happens then when you are standing in one place without a direction? Is your sense of progress fading?
Just received the notification on my phone “Welcome to Schiphol Airport!” Arrived in Amsterdam on the 31st of December, 2023. My second home, this small country, which I can call home for almost 2.5 years now. Bittersweet arrival it is. Just as at any other time, I need to arrive mentally, because this is also a liminal space for me.
Going, but not arriving. You are on your way, but not there yet. Weird place an airport is, it makes you think and draw false conclusions because it would be a mistake to think you have a clear end destination. The metaphor is therefore faulty, but by celebrating its imperfection, I hope I could bring your mind into a space where you can think more freely. A true liminal space, between where you are and where you are going.