On a day such as today, I can close my eyes and hear countless teachers speak to me. This is their lesson: pay attention to the spaces between the notes, bars, and phrases. Music lives in these spaces. Awareness and execution of the notes themselves is of course important, but true artistry blossoms in the transitions.

The subway is empty, downtown quiet, the office quieter still. It is the Friday of labor day weekend and the bustle that inundates the city on weekdays is nowhere to be found. Many people have taken the day off; those who haven’t are at their desks going through the motion with all the enthusiasm a student has for his lessons hours before term holiday. One can see in every eye the glint of a vacation already underway. At work but not working.

Management realizes this. Our company tradition of beer, snacks, and conversation which survived the merger, though in less sumptuous form, traditionally takes place at four; it has been given the three o’clock time slot today. Once the first beer is open, even the pretense of work will stop.

It is a transition. A day like this hold no prize, but is rich with its scent, so close as to be maddening. They must exist because there will always be the moments between work and rest, where the taste of the future spills into the present. If today were a holiday, yesterday would have undoubtedly had the same feel as today.

The limen or threshold is a metaphor I hold dear. Neither inside nor outside, it stands between the two, at once both and neither. The liminal days are holidays, feasts, rituals, and festivals, days where the routine is broken. The liminal moments are moments of creativity and uncertainty, fear and promise. Time in-between, time in transition, time between point A and point B.

These are days which awaken the dreamer.