The Liminal Space

The threshold where faith is tested and futures are formed.

Standing in the between.

The waiting season.

The gap.

The pause.

Liminal space is the space of “not quite.” The transitional ground between what was and what’s next. The term comes from the Latin limen, meaning “threshold.” Literally, it’s a hallway, an airport, a waiting room—spaces meant to move through, not live in. But metaphorically, liminal space is where we often dwell during seasons of deep transformation.

It’s where you’re no longer who you were, but not yet who you’re becoming.

These in-between places can be sacred, disorienting, and wildly uncomfortable. But they are also fertile ground—for revelation, for growth, for clarity.

During the Easter season, Christians like myself recognize this space in the time between Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection. It was not a void. It was a mission.

Jesus wasn’t idle. He was advocating, interceding, and saving souls.

And that challenges me: What am I doing in my liminal space?

I’ve called this season “wandering in the wilderness.” What once anchored me is gone. And without those familiar markers, I’ve felt aimless. But like Jesus in that in-between, I’ve learned that waiting doesn’t mean wasting.

2024 Fellow of The Nantucket Project - one of the many things I did while “wandering in the wilderness”.

If you’ve lost your job, your relationship, or your rhythm—what you do now matters. In this space, I’ve recommitted my life to God. I’ve learned a new language. Traveled. Taken university courses. Deepened my marriage and family connections. I’ve returned to the things I once put on the “back, back, back burner” because I believed paying the bills mattered more than feeding my soul.

Say No to Chaos

I recently read a piece in Harvard Business Review titled “Your Boss Thrives on Chaos. Here’s How to Protect Your Energy.” It describes leaders who don’t just survive in crisis—they thrive on it. They create disorder to maintain control, stepping in to save the day—often from fires they helped start.

I spent decades in industries where everything was an emergency. Big or small, every task was urgent. And many of my managers believed that pressure forged excellence. That chaos bred creativity.

It didn’t.

It bred burnout. I lived in a constant state of fight or flight. From the outside, I looked like I was thriving. But internally, I was barely hanging on. The noise was deafening. Imposter syndrome was in full bloom. I couldn’t hear myself think—let alone trust my instincts.

That’s not leadership. That’s survival theater.

True leaders don’t manufacture chaos. They create calm. They don’t control the room—they steady it. They are like coxswains in a crew boat: seated at the helm, facing their team, guiding rhythm and pace while everyone else rows forward, backs to the finish line.

The Power of Silence

“Be still and know that I am God.” - Psalm 46:10

As many of you know, I’m an introvert by nature. But I was raised to perform like an extrovert. My parents believed extroverts were more likely to succeed, so I adapted. But my soul has always craved quiet.

Susan Cain’s incredible book “Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking” gave me permission to embrace stillness as strength. Her TED Talk is a must-watch if you haven’t seen it.

In a world addicted to noise and urgency, I’ve chosen silence. And in that silence, I’ve finally started hearing God’s voice again—and my own.

It wasn’t easy at first. The moment I sat still, my mind would race—emails, errands, missed calls. But with practice and intention, the noise began to fade. In its place: Clarity. Calm. Conviction.

My daily practice of reading the Holy Bible,

And I’ve carried that stillness into my boardrooms.

I believe I’m a better leader because of this practice. I currently serve as an active Independent Board Director on several for-profit boards, and I participate in multiple governance initiatives, including the New York Stock Exchange, JPMorgan, and the Nasdaq Center for Board Excellence. I’m also an alumna of the Black Corporate Board Readiness Program at Santa Clara University’s Leavey Executive Center.

Recently, I was interviewed for their upcoming newsletter, and the interviewer asked what I’ve taken back to the boardroom as a result of the program. As I answered, I realized: I’m bringing with me a deeper sense of stillness.

That stillness has made me a more impactful board member. Because I’ve learned to be still, I listen more intently. I think more critically. And I’ve discovered the power of asking beautiful questions—questions that open the door to even more beautiful results.

Transformation is Coming

I am rooting for you, always.

There’s so much that happens in the quiet. Don’t mistake the stillness for stagnation.

Yes, this season may feel uncertain. You may not have clarity or closure yet. But remain calm. There is light ahead. The page is turning.

When you’re in the eye of the storm, perspective is hard to find. But growth often begins when we allow ourselves to be still.

Don’t be crushed by yesterday. Remain hopeful in tomorrow.

Your chapter is unfolding—right now. Anchor yourself. Trust the process.

Surrender.

Because in the quiet… transformation is already underway.

Go forth, my Muses and Be the way. I am rooting for you—always.