You're between jobs. Not unemployed—between. You're not who you were at your old company, but you haven't yet become whoever you'll be in your next role. You exist in a strangely suspended state of time, a threshold space where the familiar structures that used to hold your days have dissolved, but new ones have yet to form.

Or maybe you're living in a different narrative. Perhaps your story is unfolding as you navigate losing someone you love. Maybe you're journeying through the space between who you were before a major life change and who you're becoming after; the slow transition from one phase of life to another—from student to professional, from single to partnered, from parent of young children to parent of adults who've left home.

These in-between spaces have a name: liminal spaces. The word "liminal" comes from the Latin limen, meaning threshold—that transitional zone between where you were and where you're going. When you're in a liminal space, you're not fully part of either state. You've separated from the way things were before, but you haven't yet arrived at the place that will become your new normal.

And it turns out, our minds really don't like this.

Why Liminal Spaces Feel So Destabilizing

Our brains find it incredibly useful to divide the world into categories with well-defined boundaries—you're either this or that, a child or an adult, single or in a relationship. This black-and-white thinking helps us navigate the world efficiently. When the definitions and rules are clear, we know how to act, what to expect, and who we are.

However, liminal spaces exist in the gray areas our minds work hard to eliminate.

Research suggests that people in liminal spaces report lower life satisfaction and diminished mental health outcomes. The uncertainty isn't just uncomfortable—it's anxiety-provoking. During these transitional periods, the brain's stress response systems, including the amygdala (the part of your brain that detects threats and triggers fear) and prefrontal cortex (the part that helps you plan, make decisions, and regulate emotions), are particularly active.

When you're in a liminal space, you've lost the usual structures that help you mark time and meaning. In this space, time loses much of its recognizable rhythms and structure. The routines that used to anchor your days—the commute that signaled "work mode," the rituals that marked transitions between roles—have evaporated, and suddenly you feel adrift.

This is why creative rituals become so powerful during these threshold times. They offer structure when everything else feels formless. They mark time when time feels suspended. They create meaning when meaning feels elusive.

What Rituals Actually Do (According to Research)

A ritual isn't just a habit or a routine. It is a predefined sequence of actions characterized by formal structure and repetition that is embedded in a larger system of symbolism and meaning.

Think about it: making coffee is a habit. However, if you intentionally slow down, measure the beans with attention, pour the water while focusing on its sound, and use that five minutes to mentally prepare for your day—something ordinary becomes a ritual. The physical actions are the same, but the intention and attention transform them into something more.

Recent research has identified three primary regulatory functions of rituals: regulation of emotions, performance goal states, and social connection. The first function—emotion regulation—becomes particularly relevant in liminal spaces.

Studies have shown something remarkable: rituals appear to benefit even people who claim not to believe that rituals work. The mechanisms seem to operate beneath our conscious awareness.

Studies show that when people perform rituals—even simple ones—they feel more confident and capable. They try harder. They do better at tasks. This isn't magic; it's that the ritual itself seems to tell your brain: You're prepared. You've got this. More importantly, even the simplest ritual actions affect how your brain responds to difficulty. Studies show that rituals help your brain monitor performance more effectively—you become more aware of what you're doing and how it's going. And when things don't go well? Rituals seem to soften the blow. They act as a buffer, reducing the intensity of your brain's response to failure or setbacks.

In other words: when you perform a ritual, your nervous system gets a signal. You are doing something intentional. You have some control. You are creating order in chaos.

Why Creative Rituals Work Differently

Creative rituals—making art, coloring, knitting, journaling, crafting—add another dimension to this regulatory power. They combine the structure and meaning of ritual with the specific neurological benefits of creative engagement.

Research demonstrates that making art can reduce anxiety above and beyond non-creative activities—and the more engaged you are in the creative process (mind focused, body responding), the greater the anxiety reduction.

When you add ritualized structure to a creative practice—say, coloring for ten minutes before bed every night, or knitting while processing difficult emotions—something interesting happens in your brain.

When you make something with your hands—whether in a therapy setting or alone at your kitchen table—you are processing emotions and experiences without having to put everything into words. Sometimes your hands understand what your mind can't yet articulate. The act of creating helps you see situations from new angles, and it reminds you that you are capable of making something, which strengthens your sense of agency when life feels out of control.

One review of studies found that creative practices significantly reduced stress in 81% of cases. That's not just people in formal art therapy—it includes anyone engaging in creative work with attention and intention.

Many creative practices also involve bilateral movement—using both sides of your body in rhythmic, alternating patterns. When you color, your hand moves back and forth. When you knit, your hands alternate in rhythm. When you paint, you engage both sides of your body and brain.

Bilateral stimulation involves simultaneously engaging both sides of the body or brain to promote relaxation, emotional regulation, and integration of experiences, based on the understanding that bilateral movement activates the brain's natural healing processes.

Research indicates bilateral stimulation may boost levels of feel-good neurotransmitters like serotonin and dopamine in your brain, while also acting as a bridge between emotion and logic, helping you process difficult experiences more effectively. The back-and-forth pattern is similar to the eye movements that occur during deep REM sleep, which the brain already associates with a more relaxed state.

Your hands, moving in rhythm, send a message to your nervous system: The emergency is over. You are safe enough to create.

Ritual as Anchor in the Threshold

Anthropological studies of ritual suggest that creating personal rituals helps mark time and progress when the world seems to be on hold, providing ways of marking cycles and transitions between different states.

When you establish a creative ritual during a liminal period—whether it's ten minutes of morning pages, coloring before bed, or knitting while you think—you're doing several things simultaneously:

You're creating temporal structure. The ritual marks time. It divides your day into before and after, creating rhythm when everything else feels suspended.

You're establishing emotional regulation. The combination of ritual structure and creative engagement activates multiple calming systems in your brain—from the symbolic meaning you create to the bilateral movements that soothe your nervous system.

You're building agency. In a time when so much feels outside your control, the ritual reminds you: I can do this. I am choosing this. I am creating something, even if everything else feels uncertain.

You're practicing containment. The ritual has a beginning and an end. You sit down. You create. You finish. In a liminal space where nothing feels complete, the ritual offers completion at miniature scale.

What This Means for Your Threshold Times

The next time you find yourself in a liminal space—and you will, because life is essentially a series of thresholds—consider the power of a creative ritual.

Not as a cure. Not as a way to bypass the discomfort or rush through the transition. But as a way to be with the liminal space more skillfully. As a way to create meaning and structure when both feel elusive.

It might be as simple as:

• Coloring one pattern each evening before bed
• Journaling three pages each morning
• Knitting ten rows while you process the day
• Drawing for fifteen minutes as a transition between work and home

The specific practice matters less than the ritual structure around it: the same time, the same intention, the same devotion of attention. The regularity tells your nervous system: We're okay. We're still here. We're doing something meaningful even in the uncertainty.

Research suggests that while liminality can be unsettling, it also offers opportunities for growth and transformation, with the emotional and psychological experiences during these periods playing a crucial role in how individuals adapt and emerge.

Your creative ritual won't eliminate the discomfort of the threshold. It won't speed you through it or deliver you safely to the other side.

But it might help you be less afraid in the middle. It might give you something to hold onto when everything else feels formless. It might remind you that even in the most uncertain times, you can create something—even if it's just order in the small space of your own attention.

And sometimes, in a liminal space, that is everything.

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A Note About Clinical Care

The information in this article is based on research about creative practice and ritual, but it is not medical advice. Ethos of Care does not provide mental health treatment. If you are experiencing symptoms that significantly interfere with your daily life, please reach out to a licensed mental health professional. Creative rituals can be a valuable self-care practice, but they complement rather than replace professional care when needed.

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Sources

This article draws on research from multiple fields including anthropology, psychology, neuroscience, and creative arts therapy. Key sources include:

• Hobson, N.M., Schroeder, J., Risen, J.L., Xygalatas, D., & Inzlicht, M. (2018). The psychology of rituals: An integrative review and process-based framework. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 22(3), 260-284.

• Stuckey, H.L., & Nobel, J. (2010). The connection between art, healing, and public health: A review of current literature. American Journal of Public Health, 100(2), 254-263.

• Turner, V.W. (1970). The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual. Cornell University Press.

• Research on bilateral stimulation and EMDR from multiple clinical studies

• Studies on creative arts interventions for stress management and emotional regulation

• Images are by Olesia Buiar.

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Ready to explore creative ritual practice?

Our Flourish Meditation Coloring Cards were designed specifically to support you through threshold times—incorporating bilateral movement, ritual structure, and the calming power of creative attention.

Simple enough to use even when you're struggling. Beautiful enough that you'll actually want to reach for them. Backed by research on what helps when everything feels uncertain.

Not a cure. Just a ritual. Just a way to be in the liminal space a little more gently.