Change is something most of us recognize easily. It shows up in the outer world: a new role, a new location, a shift in a relationship, a loss, an achievement. Something in the external pattern of life alters.
Transition is different. It happens within. It is the inner process of coming to terms with change or of making meaning of change, whether planned or unexpected. It is a process of releasing what was, and allowing what is new to take shape within us. As William Bridges described in his work on transitions, “Change is situational; transition is psychological.” Change happens around us, and transition happens through us.
This distinction matters. Too often, in the rush of life, our energy is pulled toward the outer work only… the tasks, the logistics, the visible shifts, the doing of it all. And yet, it is the inner work that allows us to reorganize internally, to pivot, and to meet what life is asking of us with more wholeness.
In many wisdom traditions across the world, this inner journey is deeply honored. They reflect the truth that our lives are not only shaped by external events but by the parallel path we walk within. Just as seasons turn, or breath rises and falls, so too do we move through phases of inner transition throughout our lives.
Transitions also bring us to thresholds. Some thresholds are visible: marriage, retirement, a career change, the birth of a child, the loss of a loved one. And others are quieter: a decision to live more authentically, a subtle deepening of self-trust, the letting go of an old identity. These unseen thresholds shift us in profound ways, even when they are not recognized outwardly.
The space between what was and what has yet not taken shape can be unsettling, yet deeply alive. It is here that the shifts and movements shape what will emerge in the wake of a transitionary period. Those who have shared stories of deep transformation have often been through a dark night of the soul, a period of liminality, within which they encountered a deeper truth in their lives, which shapes who they become.
This stage of liminality, the in-between space, is a fertile one… it holds potential for what we may rise to, even as it feels disorienting or uncertain. This space, while looking outwardly passive, is not an empty space. It also reflects through nature and all things rhythm. Music is made not only of sound, but of pauses too between notes. Seeds rest in soil until the time is right to sprout. Trees lie bare before they bloom again. Between every inhale and exhale, there is a natural pause before breath moves again.
So it is with our lives. The pauses within transition are not empty. They are alive with the possibility of what can be.
When we become aware of and acknowledge these spaces, and honor what they ask of us, we attend not just to the outer change but to the inner journey it invites. We allow ourselves to grow with more awareness, more integration, and more grace.
Change alters our outer circumstances. Transition reshapes us within. And in the liminal spaces between the two, we are invited into something deeper, almost a reweaving of our being. When we can meet these pauses with consciousness and openness, we don’t just adapt to change; we expand into it, integrating more of who we are, stepping forward more wholly.
