The collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore, Maryland on March 26, 2024 struck home for me quite literally, as I grew up in the area and Baltimore is still my family’s home. When events like this occur and I sense an emotional response in myself, I tend to look for meaning. That morning, I walked in the woods for two hours. I had no particular aim in mind, other than an inner knowing that nature is grounding to me and I needed to not feel sucked into the plethora of updates from social media and news outlets.
As I often do, I snapped some photos along the way, of settings that evoked emotions in me: curiosity, connection, awe, wonder, reverence, and even grief and sadness. Nature always surprises me with lessons I didn’t know I needed, at times that seem so well placed.
In this article, I want to welcome you to “walk” with me through the woods as I experienced it that day. Then, we’ll walk together through the idea of holding liminal spaces with grace and compassion. Here we go…
Symbolism is in the eye of the beholder, so when I am engaging others in nature therapy it is up to them to make their own meaning. In this particular case, Mother Nature was my therapist, and I felt she was holding me in positive regard during this time of need. The security I felt from this encounter encouraged me to take a path I hadn’t yet traveled, along a winding bend to a wide-open space filled with towering trees.
A bit further down the path, I came upon this tree. For reference, the open space was tall enough and wide enough that I could have stood sheltered inside. Something I have never experienced before.
A sense of desire to give back to the forest arose strongly in me after visiting with this tree. After spending time cleaning up litter nearby, I found myself hungry at mid-morning. Walking further along and winding up to the community garden, I found a seat on a bench beneath this wonderfully fragrant and welcoming magnolia tree. I sat in quiet, scanning over the garden and watching birds flying synchronously above.
Taking a long, slow in breath, I found myself feeling immensely comforted. Sitting here on this bench, under the expansive branches of this beautiful tree, I gazed upon this welcoming space. This was my final stop along my walk before I headed back to the things of modern daily life. The feeling lingers, although I’m no longer in this space. I know that I can go back to it whenever I need it, and whenever it needs me.
The collapse of the Key Bridge reminds us of impermanence. We are faced with the knowing that we cannot go back to this place. At least, not in the same way that we did. Whether or not we are actively in what we would think of as a transition in our individual lives, we are all in liminal space.
Many people have commented that they can’t quite understand why they feel so attached to a physical structure. To me, this feeling makes perfect sense. Of course we are attached to something that connects. This is the purpose of a bridge. It allows us to start at one place, and transition to the next. It supports us in the liminal space- in the in between. In the unknown. Of course the unknown is feared. Of course we all need support from one another in a time when what we took as certain and stable, is no longer so.
This is a time when we are faced with a physical reminder that the present moment is a gift. While it is far too soon to imagine what gift could possibly come from such tragedy, I encourage each of us to consider a time when this might have been so in other areas of your life. Think of that time when you were in an “in between” phase and you reached the other side of it, that thing you didn’t want to do or didn’t think you could handle yet you did, that person you had to say goodbye to and found others means of staying connected or honoring them, that turn that took you down a different path. Consider the other side, just for a moment.
The liminal spaces are part of our lives by design. So much in nature is cyclical and interdependent, as we clearly saw on this walk through the woods. We are no exception as humans. We need and thrive from connection. This is an opportunity to practice grace and compassion with ourselves, with each other, and in the broader society. Our hearts are broken by a symbol of connection having been destroyed, perhaps because we are reminded of how deeply connected we need to be.
My heart goes out to everyone feeling the weight of this loss, especially the tragic losses of dear family and friends. Please remember to take care and take time to support one another. Spend time in connection, allow grief to show up, and hold this liminal space with grace and deep compassion.
