Liminal Space

My first summer at BYU I took a class on museums. Literally on museums, not art. One of the things I remember from the class was the idea of liminal space when it came to entering the museum. Rita, my teacher, explained that the museum had sets of double doors that would create a separate space on its own. That is, it was not part of outside the museum but it was not quite in the museum, either. She explained that they did this in order to create a transition space. It was a way of preparing the visitor from leaving the outside world before they actually entered the sacredness of the museum.

Liminality is a psychological, neurological, or metaphysical subjective state, conscious or unconscious, of being on the "threshold" of or between two different existential planes.

The other day I was thinking about these things. And then I thought about the airport. Every once in awhile I find myself traveling, and I'll leave Utah through the Salt Lake airport, and typically I end up at LAX or somewhere in Florida. I've viewed the time I spend in airports as liminal moments. When I'm leaving Utah I tend to use it as a means of getting my bearings, as preparing myself for a place that is not so easy. I take deep breaths and feel my body posture shift as I feel the need to toughen up. I know that what lies ahead is my crazy family (Mom's house), a lack of following the same religious principles instilled in my life (Dad's house) and overall stress.

The second I feel the airplane start to descend into Salt Lake I feel my tight, stiff muscles begin to relax. I am coming home. And once again I use the airport as a transitional space. I let my guard down. I am instantly happier. I stroll through the airport instead of the brisk pace I'd previously used.

The Salt Lake airport has become a place of refuge for me. And I wonder if in the next decade I will always feel that way about Salt Lake, of if my feelings will shift and I will feel that way about whatever airport becomes my base.