Liminal Space and Time

Apr 11, 2025

Part of the power of ceremony is because ritual spaces—like a good old fashioned protest—are liminal spaces. They are times out of normal time, when the status quo can be temporarily turned on its head. When the power of the carnival, and the camp, and the comedic open up new ways of thinking, new possibilities for being, and new spaces for solidarity.

These are spaces of “no-saying,” of affirming what society and culture refuse, of unmasking the pretentious, of elevating persons and things of low degree, when the mighty are pulled from their high places. These are the spaces where the last come first.

Suzanne Crawford O’Brien

I belong to Seekers Church, a small, actively progressive, Christian church in Washington, D.C. Founded in 1976 as one of several congregations out of the Church of the Saviour, we now number around 60 members. Our building is a storefront in a gentrifying neighborhood on the edge of the city, a 15-minute walk from my suburban Maryland home.

Last Saturday morning about a dozen of us met at the church and walked to the Metro station, kitty-corner across a wide green space. We took a train into downtown D.C. and joined the throngs walking toward the National Mall. How many people? Tens of thousands? Probably that, at least. The Mall was only one of more than 1,200 locations in all 50 states plus other countries that staged Hands Off! protests on April 5th.

Besides my group at the National Mall, there was at least one other group of Seekers members, who came in from the southern and western sides of Washington. One of them wrote a sermon that evening, to be preached the next day at church.

I don’t attend many protests because to me they’re a chore, not something I enjoy at all. I don’t like being in crowds, nor walking slowly for a long time in a crowd, nor standing for an even longer time with nothing to do. There’s also the mental stress of thinking, on the one hand, that it’s important for me to be there and, on the other, that my presence is insignificant.

However … occasionally a protest comes up that seems exceptional, so I go.

During the two years that I lived in Seattle in the late 1970s, I went to one protest against the nuclear ballistic submarines stationed at the nearby U.S. Naval Base. That might have been my first; I don’t recall any protests from my university years in Arizona.

Since settling in the D.C. area in 1980, I’ve attended a few, the most memorable being one day of the weeklong, peaceful demonstrations in August 2011, in opposition to the Keystone XL oil pipeline. The actions included civil disobedience — we broke a law prohibiting gatherings close to the White House — and by the end of the week more than 1,000 protesters were arrested, including me. It wasn’t a bad experience, except for taking up the entire day. The event was carefully planned and choreographed, and we all went home at the end of the day.

Back to last Saturday’s protest. Like most people, I attended with friends, and for me the community aspect is essential. If I don’t actually know the people I’m with, there has to be some organization that I’m a member of.

For a report on the numbers and the impact, check out What We Accomplished on Saturday, by How We Fight Back.

Last Friday, the day before the protests, Suzanne Crawford O'Brien wrote about protest as ceremony. In that post is a photo of a woman holding a sign worded exactly like my favorite of the hundreds of signs I saw on Saturday!

The sign was held by one of two women standing near me, each of whom had a dog; they appeared to be Labrador Retrievers, one yellow and the other chocolate. The sign read, “so bad, even the introverts are here.”

Speaking of dogs, if this post seems even less coherent than usual, it’s because Tjikko has required even more of my attention than usual, all this week. He’s a highly energetic, six-month-old puppy of a breed (Miniature Australian Shepherd) known for high energy and activity. I suspect he also has some anxiety issues, and this was a week of disruptions to his routines.

I was away overnight for a family event. I expect Tjikko to be dysregulated for a day after either of his human companions is gone for an unusually long time. He sleeps less than usual (and he never sleeps as much as experts say puppies are supposed to) and, like any child, when he’s overtired he gets hyperactive.

There were other factors that also might have contributed to his intensified chewing of rugs and bed sheets — no matter how many towels I pile on or how cleverly I tuck them around the favorite chewing edges. For one thing, we no longer have his beloved Puppy Kindergarten classes on Mondays. (And we have to wait until mid-May for First Grade.) For another, the weather has returned to winter’s cold, and all day today we’ve had a cold, driving rain. Not a problem for Tjikko, but the grownups have shortened the outdoor walking time.

Just in case you’re wondering, he has a variety of chew toys and bully sticks (a type of food treat that takes a long time to chew down). He loves to chew the toys and sticks, but his very favorite thing is fabrics.

So, now I’m in problem-solving mode. I have some ideas to try out, and I will report the results in a week or two. Meanwhile, today has gone a little bit more smoothly, despite the rain. After going through the whole day with only two, very short naps, Tjikko went down for the night (so far), allowing me finally to finish this writing.

Clearing a Path