Beyond Location: How Liminal Spaces Amplify Our Values

#22 || A Reflection from my Middle East Adventure

Most of us rush through life's threshold moments—those uncomfortable periods between what was and what will be. We race from one job to the next, one city to another, always chasing the certainty of a new normal. But what if these liminal spaces, these times of profound transition, are where we do our most important work?

I'm testing this hypothesis from my makeshift office on the ninth floor of a Dubai hotel room with a full view of the endless towers of Business Bay. Since leaving my role at Udemy last year, I've shifted away from the familiar cadence of corporate leadership—the endless Zoom meetings, Slack notifications, and team check-ins—to build something different. My days are now split between consulting with clients on building effective teams, diving into deep thinking and writing about AI (I finally finished my article on that, which I will share soon), and coaching leaders through their own transitions.

Writing with a View in Dubai

We've been in Dubai for a week, our first stop in this month-long Middle East adventure. While my husband has been spending more time on his business here, I haven't made the trip until now. The original plan was just a few weeks. How could I be away from 'everything' for longer than that? Then, a few friends gently challenged my thinking with a powerful reframe (thank you, Libby and Aaryn). What exactly is 'everything' anyway?

What began as a brief visit has evolved into something more ambitious: an experiment in location-independent work while staying rooted in what truly matters. I've discovered it's not about leaving 'everything' behind but realizing that 'everything' becomes portable when anchored in values rather than place. The meaningful work in my life isn't happening despite this transition—it's happening because of it.

The Productive Tension Between Liminality and Intentionality

Liminality is the transition state—those threshold periods between who we were and who we are becoming. This concept of liminality has deep roots in anthropology, where scholars used it to describe periods marked by profound ambiguity and uncertainty—the spaces between established social structures and identities. Most people try to minimize or avoid these periods. I've learned to embrace them.

The most powerful example of liminality came after I left WeWork. Everyone expected me to jump into another corporate role immediately. That’s what we are supposed to do, right? Instead, I wrote. Reflected. And wrote some more. And wrote for weeks. That writing became an HBR article and eventually my book proposal. If I hadn't given myself permission to stay in that uncertain space while maintaining the disciplined practice of daily writing, none of that work would have existed.

Here's the paradox I'm living now: We can be open to new possibilities tomorrow while still being grounded in who we are and what we do today. While my husband and I are exploring different expressions of living (maybe living in the Middle East full-time, maybe part-time, maybe Europe, but still keeping our place in SF to come back to 3-6 months of the year), I am feeling less untethered and more aligned with what I value.

This is what fascinates me about the relationship between liminality and intentionality. We can do our most important work in these threshold times, but only if we create the containers that allow us to explore them. It's about giving ourselves permission to be uncertain while staying grounded in practices that reflect our values.

We can do our most important work in these threshold times, but only if we create the containers that allow us to explore them.

I recognize that having expansive space for deep reflection is a privilege—one I don't take lightly. Yet, I've worked with people across diverse circumstances who have successfully carved out intentional liminal spaces in their lives. The opportunity for reflection doesn't always require dramatic changes; it can exist within the constraints of our current realities. What matters is our commitment to creating even small pockets of liminality amid life's forward momentum. The space doesn't have to be substantial—it just needs to be yours. Sometimes, it's as simple as claiming 30 minutes each morning for reflection or one focused hour weekly for deeper thinking. It's about ReCulturing ourselves and intentionally designing the behaviors and practices we want to carry forward.

Home: Where Values Meet Practice

Liminality isn't just an uncomfortable gap to bridge—it's a powerful diagnostic tool to dig deeper into. When everything familiar is stripped away, we're forced to distinguish between what we genuinely value and what we've simply grown accustomed to. I'm discovering this through my evolving relationship with "home"—a concept I've had to completely reframe.

I'm more of a homebody than I sometimes care to admit. My San Francisco life has its cherished rhythms: morning workouts with TJ at the club, writing with my favorite blanket, hanging out with our two lovingly annoying cats, and knowing that our fridge is always stocked with my favorite protein drinks—and a few vegetables (working on that). And I have reset my working space in our brightly-lit home, which, unlike here, does not require air conditioning. Meanwhile, I'm typing this with numb fingers because my husband has set the air conditioning to "Arctic expedition.” These comforts make me happy. They provide essential stability during uncertainty but can also be recreated in new forms wherever I go. We've already found a local store that carries my favorite protein drink, and exploring new gyms is always a great way to shake up a workout routine. The specific expressions may change, but their support for my core values remains constant. This isn't about abandoning comforts—it's about discovering new ones.

What's harder to replicate but far more important are the human connections. Over the past several months, I have enjoyed reconnecting with dear friends, hiking the Berkeley hills on a Wednesday afternoon, meeting for Saturday morning coffee and runs by the bridge, and exploring the latest art exhibits at the DeYoung Museum. These friendships don't disappear with distance—they simply take on new dimensions. My friends are there for me just as I'm there for them, even if we can't text or call randomly at 2 PM on a Tuesday anymore (that would be 2 AM SF time). And already, we've gone on a boat and an urban walk with fellow global adventure seekers we've connected with here. Each new relationship I form while traveling helps me see my long-standing friendships through a lens of deeper gratitude, creating bridges between different worlds rather than replacing what I've built at home.

My core values also remain constant: health, impact, learning, and design. What's changing is how I practice them. Health isn't about going to my familiar gym—it's about maintaining physical and mental well-being wherever I am. Impact isn't tied to a particular office—it's about finding ways to make a difference through coaching, consulting, and writing, even while traveling. Learning isn't just about discussing new ideas with colleagues or reading the latest books on my shelf—it's about actively engaging with ideas in completely new forums—like learning more about Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030, experimenting with AI, and leveraging new apps. And design isn't about my carefully curated space in our San Francisco loft—it's about creating and working in beautiful, inspiring spaces wherever I am, including finding this gem in the middle of Dubai.

My “office” for a day at Comptoir 102, Dubai

Yes, it's challenging. Building new routines, respecting unfamiliar customs, and constantly adapting takes energy. But this is where intentionality becomes crucial. Each day, I choose specific practices that ground me in my values: morning meditation, focused work blocks, deliberate learning moments, and thoughtful space creation. These aren't just coping mechanisms—they're the bridge between liminality and intentionality, between untethered and grounded.

This approach isn't limited to those who can travel extensively. The key is identifying your core values and creating intentional behaviors and practices that express them, even in small ways. Maybe it's carving out a weekly "liminal hour" for reflection or temporarily changing your routine to challenge your assumptions about what's really essential. The goal isn't geographic freedom—it's the ability to stay true to your values while remaining open to new ways of living them.

Embracing Your Own Liminal Practice

Life isn't about choosing between groundedness and exploration, between stability and growth. It's about creating a conscious container where uncertainty and intention can coexist and remain grounded in our values while staying open to new ways of expressing and practicing them.

“…the actual task is to integrate the two threads of one’s life…the within and the without”

~ Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Whether you're navigating a career pivot, contemplating relocation, or simply feeling the pull toward something new, here are three practical steps to embrace intentional liminality:

1. Separate Values from Habits: Examine your daily routines with fresh eyes. Ask: "Which ones reflect enduring values, and which ones are simply comfortable habits?" This crucial distinction creates space for reinvention while keeping you anchored in what truly matters. [Comment below for my personal values framework to jumpstart your reflection.]

2. Create a Liminal Container: Establish a consistent practice that gives you permission to exist between certainties. This might be a 20-minute morning journal, a weekly "possibility mapping" session, or a monthly experiment with changing one comfortable practice. The container's size matters less than your commitment to honoring and being open to it.

3. Develop Location-Independent Practices: Identify three specific ways to express each core value that doesn't depend on particular places, people, or circumstances. These become your portable anchors, allowing you to remain rooted in purpose even during a transition.

From our boat on the water, I watched the sun sink behind Dubai's skyline, offering a different perspective of the city than my hotel window. Tomorrow's view will shift again as we journey to Abu Dhabi, but what truly matters will remain constant. These threshold moments don't just help us navigate change and build resilience—they reveal, with remarkable clarity, what remains essential when everything else keeps changing around us.

On a boat in Dubai with the Burj Al Arab in Jumeirah behind us