I’ve always been attracted to liminal spaces. I love archways, courtyards, graveyards, and crossroads. I love stories about places that are in a time out of time or gateways to other worlds. So it is no wonder that as I continue to actively practice witchcraft, that I keep noticing just how much liminality plays into my craft.
Witchcraft and folk practices are filled with references to liminal spaces. How often do we see spells or superstitions telling us to put something in a doorway, window, or fireplace? How often do we see references to doing something at dusk, dawn, or midnight? How often do we read about crossroads, railways, graveyards, or even paths in the woods?
But I do not think it is enough to just blindly incorporate liminal spaces into one’s practice. Just like with every aspect of the craft it is important not to just blindly follow or copy, but to learn and understand the hows and whys of what we do. By researching and learning about liminal spaces, both in the folkloric and practical sense, we develop a greater appreciation and understanding of these spaces and, in turn, we can better work with them.
Right now, a lot of my work with Hekate has involved learning about crossroads. I knew a bit about crossroads before I started working with Her. I knew that crossroads were places you left not so nice spells, and that they were places people met to make deals with figures like the Man in Black or the Devil. But in working with Hekate, there is more to crossroads than I could have ever thought. The crossroads is a way to travel, it is a piece of an infinitely larger web connecting paths and places. To look back when leaving something at a crossroads is not only disrespectful because you might offend the being you are working with, but it is also a great sign of doubt. This is only the tip of the iceberg and I know I still have a lot more to learn. But I now have so much more respect for crossroads and what they represent.
The liminal space has become a sacred space for me. My circle is more than just a protective barrier. It is creating a place betwixt & between. I am between the mundane and spirit world, able to interact with both. My trance work is making my body into a liminal space, giving me that gateway to ride the hedge. The andalusite I wear around my neck is carrying the crossroads with me.
I firmly believe that to be a witch is to accept liminality as a permanent part of your life. It is always having one foot in the mundane and the other foot in the spirit world. I think that is why I love liminal spaces so much. Not only are they practical places to perform my magic, but there is also that sense of kinship, of home, when I am there. They are certainly not places to dwell, but they are not meant to be dwelled at. They are meant for travel, for moving forward. They are places that are beautifully betwixt & between. The liminal is sacred, belonging to no one, yet innately a part of all of us.