"For most members of a community, the liminal is a point of transition, entered briefly, at a particular time, in passage towards something else; such persons are dipped into nonidentity and self-forgetfulness in order to change who they are. For some, though, the liminal becomes their only dwelling place—becomes home."
I though this chapter and, especially, the quote above were extremely interesting. I read it to be about writers and poets creating on the cusp of some big change. Whether that be like Komachi who was far gone from who she once was and living out the rest of her days in solitude and relative poverty or some of the poets in our class that are approaching things like graduation and having to face "the real world." I think in some ways, everyone is always on the cusp of something and therefor able to write from the threshold of life, that is, of course, unless your life is stagnate and utterly boring. I think I would like to dig into this idea a little bit more for subsequent poetry I write. What would it look like for me to really take into account the thresholds that I'm standing on and incorporate them into my writing?
Hey Emma,
I really like your interpretation of this chapter. This idea of always being on the cusp of a transformation, especially when it comes to the poets' consciousness. I personally think the best art is produced on the edge of a boundary - steadily pushing it without completely going far off. Do you think Hirshfield wants us to completely go far off, to completely transform? Or just ride the cusp? Is there even a possibility where you lose yourself too much?