How Physical Liminal Spaces Reflect Life Transitions

Life is a series of thresholds—moments where we find ourselves not quite here, yet not quite there.

Physical liminal spaces—hallways, lobbies, airports, and waiting rooms—are similar to those thresholds or the “neutral zone” the term that William Bridges uses to describe in his transition framework. Both are unsettling yet essential. Both force us to pause, reflect, and prepare. And both teach us that growth often happens in the in-between, where we feel least comfortable.

Bridges’ framework outlines three stages of transition: endings, the neutral zone, and new beginnings. The neutral zone, often overlooked, is the messy middle where the old is gone, but the new isn’t yet fully formed. It’s a space of uncertainty, much like sitting in a waiting room, unsure when your name will be called or what news you’ll receive. This middle space can feel stagnant, frustrating, and purposeless—but it’s where the groundwork for transformation is laid—offering us clarity and direction if we’re willing to sit with the discomfort.

Physical liminal spaces mirror this internal tension. Take an airport, for example: it’s neither your starting point nor your destination. You’re betwixt and between, surrounded by people on their own journeys yet profoundly aware of your own waiting. Airports are filled with potential energy—much like the neutral zone. You may not have control over the delays or turbulence, but you do have a choice about how you use the waiting. Will you scroll aimlessly, or will you do meaningful work, journal your reflections, or have an important conversation? Similarly, in life transitions, how you navigate the in-between matters far more than how quickly you arrive.

Hallways are another perfect metaphor. Maybe you’ve ended a job, a relationship, or a chapter in life, and now you’re in the “hallway” of figuring out what’s next. Hallways feel endless if we resist moving forward, but they can also provide us with the opportunity to regroup, reevaluate, and reorient ourselves before stepping into the next room.

Waiting rooms, on the other hand, are spaces of forced stillness. Time seems to stand still, yet the world continues moving. In these spaces, you may wrestle with impatience, fear, or even hope. Waiting rooms teach us the art of surrender—to acknowledge that while we can’t always control outcomes, we can control our mindset. What feels like waiting is often a time of unseen transformation.

One of the most challenging aspects of liminal spaces is the lack of control we may feel. Just as you can’t hurry the boarding process or make the hallway shorter, you can’t rush through the neutral zone of a life transition. But these spaces also offer an invitation. Without the weight of the past or the demands of the future, you have the rare opportunity to focus on who you are becoming. In this way, liminal spaces are sacred. They strip away distractions and force us to confront our truest selves.

The beauty of these spaces is their impermanence. A hallway always leads somewhere. An airport terminal eventually calls your flight. A waiting room always ends with a door opening. In life transitions, remembering the temporary nature of the neutral zone can be both comforting and motivating. It reminds us that, as Bridges says, “It isn’t the changes that do you in, it’s the transitions.” If we can embrace the process rather than resist it, we discover a depth of resilience and self-awareness we didn’t know we had.

Liminal spaces invite us to trust that the in-between is purposeful. Trust that the waiting isn’t wasted. Trust that the discomfort is shaping you into someone ready for what lies ahead. These spaces challenge us to let go of certainty and embrace possibility. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary. As with any journey, the only way out is through.

So next time you find yourself in a hallway, a lobby, a waiting room, or an airport, take a moment to notice how it feels. Reflect on the in-between spaces of your own life. Are you resisting them, or are you accepting them and pausing long enough to learn what lessons they might hold? What might happen if you saw the neutral zone as a gift rather than a burden? Life’s transitions, like hallways and waiting rooms, are temporary. But what you take from them can transform you forever. Will you step through the door ready and prepared, or will you linger, missing the opportunity to grow? The choice is yours.