Not-yet, in-between, a confusing state of yet, and not-yet, future-past, the middle. The present, it is often said, is an infinitely small slice between the future and the past. In fact, it does not exist.

The liminal exists in this infinite impossibility.

Liminal philosophy is the idea of a philosophy that is stuck in the liminal space. Or better stated, the person practicing the philosophy is stuck in that space. In fact, it is not really a space. Like liminality and the paradox of time, it is an infinite impossibility, a slice infinitely thin. It becomes, paradoxically, an infinite space.

The philosopher stuck in the liminal space, or in liminality, changed her way of being, but this being presupposes a fixed situation. Thus the idea of liminality, in-between, not-yet, presupposes and necessitates movement. It would be more appropriate to write becoming. The liminal philosopher is always becoming, never settled, never in a fixed position. One might liken this image of the philosopher to the nomad, but it is not the same.

The nomadic philosopher is always on the move, dwelling, the territory shapes her place, and the place shapes her. The nomad does not possess the territory she dwells, she is always on the move. She uses what she needs and discards what she does not need. But as soon as the territory becomes useless to her, she moves on, she does not cling to it as if she needs to reshape it to become better. She merely moves on. The idea of becoming is thus also relevant to the nomadic philosopher. But the liminal philosopher differs in some key aspects.

Liminality is defined and characterized as always in-between, it is akin to purgatory in the biblical tradition. It is about the in-between space between the not-yet and the yet, between the past and the future. It is the thin slice of the present that we can never attain. Yes, one can become a nomadic philosopher in this in-between space, because as I stated above, it is infinitely small. That presupposes infinite space itself. But the liminal philosopher is not herself a nomadic philosopher even though she is also defined by her becoming.

The first difference, then, is that liminality is still characterized by a fixed space. The liminal philosopher might find a sort of false security in moving to and fro between yet-not-yet. The nomadic philosopher does not necessarily move in this space. She might have left a long time ago because the space did not benefit her anymore.

A second difference resides in the idea of destination. For the nomadic philosopher, there might be no fixed destination. In fact, there is per definition no destination but always already dwelling. She never settles down, she moves, she is defined by her movement. The liminal philosopher is fixed in one destination, but one that also moves. She moves from the not-yet to the yet, she moves from one point to another. But in this one finds the destination. Between the past and the future reside the destination, the infinitely small impossibility of the present. That thin slice is the destination.

One might now wonder, what is the importance of this? Why is it important to focus on this rather abstract idea? What is the importance and significance of liminal philosophy?

To show the significance, I want to again contrast it against the image of the nomad. The nomad discards her place as soon as it becomes useless to her. The liminal philosopher resides in that space. She does not move on. She cannot. She does not want to. She is perpetually defined by her state of yet-to-come. However, she will never get to that position. Because as soon as she enters the "yet-to-come" - i.e., if she finds the yet-to-come - a new position opens, the new yet-to-come. The old philosophers held the notion that you could not step in the same river twice. The new philosophers changed the metaphor and said you cannot read the same book twice. This is per definition the liminal position. Before you read a book, before you step in the river, one inhabits the not-yet space. Once you step into the river or read the book, you enter the yet. But as soon as you enter this yet space, you already begin to create the next not-yet. A new book. A new river. You cannot read the same book twice because it changed you, but in that changed state, even if you read the same book again, you will read it differently. Ad infinitum. Always on the doorstep, always in the in-between. Always in the liminal.

Postscriptum

This post got way longer than I thought. The idea is still novel, a very new one for me. But I am working on it as a side project besides my main research. It might sometime turn into an article, or it might not. I hope it meant something to you. The musings are my own, the photographs are also my own taken with my Nikon D300. Happy reading, and stay well!