As an inner alchemist, I’ve always been fascinated by those strange areas we call liminal spaces. These are thresholds, crossing points where the world we think we know – the one that usually makes sense and follows predictable rules – starts to fade or bend. Think of them as doorways between our regular, day-to-day existence and other possibilities, places where reality itself seems ready to change form. They exist not merely as geographical locations but as states of being, points where the veil thins, allowing glimpses into realms beyond conventional perception—a concept echoing the ancient lore of those who sought to pierce the cosmic curtain, and move across what we perceive as space and time without our usual ideas of physical motion.

When you find yourself in one of these liminal zones, things feel different. What normally seems solid and real can become flexible, almost like a dream. Entering such a space might happen in a flash, pulling you suddenly into this changed feeling. Or, it might creep up on you slowly, the sense of being ‘in-between’ growing stronger over time. Why it happens this way often seems tied to certain energies – maybe a powerful quality in the location itself (a power spot), or perhaps it connects to a hidden potential within the person moving through that area. It’s as if the very fabric of existence is momentarily porous, allowing for an exchange between worlds—a phenomenon whispered about in forgotten grimoires and hinted at in the unsettling stillness of ancient ruins.

Often, the first sign is an odd shift in your senses. Many people describe a sudden, deep silence falling, as if someone turned down the volume on the world outside. Others talk about feeling wrapped up, like being inside a bubble, cut off from everything else. It can feel like stepping into another level of being entirely. In fact, accounts that come from investigations into strange disappearances frequently mention similar oddities in the environment – like all the birds stopping their singing at once, or an abrupt, heavy stillness clamping down—a silence so profound it feels almost tangible, pressing against the eardrums with a weight beyond mere absence of sound.

These moments, whether they arrive quickly or build up, often feel like more than just temporary confusion. They hold a sense of promise, hinting that they could lead somewhere else. What starts as that in-between feeling can seem like an entryway, suggesting a path toward a whole new world, a different reality operating by its own rules, almost like finding a hidden portal—a shimmering aperture through which the familiar dissolves and the impossible becomes momentarily real.

But the place itself, or how suddenly the feeling comes on, is only part of the picture. That’s one side of it. Now, we need to look at the other vital piece: the effect of the individual’s own inner state, their personal readiness or power. It’s not just about people randomly stumbling into these zones. The often overlooked principle is awareness, the individual’s capacity to move their awareness point, their cognitive position, and this is directly related to personal energy. This is a fundamental principle of inner alchemy that is almost always glossed over. This knowledge states as an energetic fact the idea that a change inside the person, a shift in their own consciousness, is important for truly entering or interacting with these liminal moments. This connection between the world outside and the state within is central to the work of an alchemist. It’s the secret we’ll be looking into much closer in this article. We will explore how understanding and working with our own awareness might allow us, as inner alchemists, to perceive and perhaps even move through different levels of reality, learning about space and time in ways beyond physical travel, all through mastering consciousness itself.

The Resonance Within: Individual Susceptibility and Liminal Zones

In my previous exploration, I discussed how specific locations—caves, ancient structures, places imbued with unusual geological formations—can exert an influence on the body. These effects arise from a combination of factors: crystalline structures that resonate at particular frequencies, piezoelectric properties generating subtle electrical fields, and even the peculiar geometry of these spaces – odd angles and unconventional frameworks that subtly alter our perceptual experience. Some believe these locations act as portals to realms beneath our own, gateways to what is often referred to as the inner earth.

However, attributing these phenomena solely to the environment overlooks a crucial element: the individual. While certain places may possess inherent properties conducive to altered states of consciousness, it’s the person who interacts with that space that ultimately determines the outcome. Why do some individuals vanish entirely within these liminal zones, while others experience nothing more than an unsettling stillness? Why might one person return hours, weeks or even decades later, seemingly untouched by time, while another perceives only a fleeting sense of unease? The answer lies not just in the portal itself, but in the inherent capacity of the individual to enter and interact with what we can now understand as liminal neural states.

Manfred De Pari’s 2017 paper provides a framework for understanding these states. He proposes that our ordinary consciousness operates within a tightly controlled system – a predictable pattern of neuronal firing, constantly reinforcing itself. However, under specific conditions, this system can become destabilized, allowing for the emergence of what he terms “liminal neural states.” These aren’t simply random fluctuations in brain activity; they represent a temporary suspension of the usual constraints on perception and cognition. Imagine a river flowing within well-defined banks. Ordinary consciousness is like that steady current. A liminal neural state is akin to a sudden flood, temporarily breaching those banks and allowing the water—our awareness—to spread out into uncharted territory.

This spreading isn’t chaotic; it’s governed by an inherent tendency towards self-organization. The brain, as an autopoietic system (a system that creates and maintains itself), seeks to establish new patterns of stability even within this altered state. These new patterns are shaped not only by the external environment—the cave, the structure—but also by the individual’s internal history, beliefs, expectations, emotional reality, and most importantly their energetic level. It’s a dynamic interplay between the external trigger (the liminal space) and the internal response (the individual’s neural configuration). Someone with a deeply ingrained sense of order and control might resist these shifts, experiencing only disorientation or anxiety. Conversely, an individual predisposed to openness, curiosity, and a willingness to relinquish familiar frameworks may find themselves drawn into deeper levels of altered perception—and potentially, transported beyond the confines of ordinary reality.

The Geometry of Unreality: Corners Where Existence Bends

These spaces that lead elsewhere are undeniably real, though their reality operates outside our conventional understanding. They exert a transformative influence on those who enter, and this transformation isn’t merely psychological; it’s fundamentally altering to the very fabric of being. The effect is often subtle at first—a distortion in perspective, a sense of unreality that clings like a damp fog. But as one progresses deeper, the geometry itself begins to warp.

Imagine corridors that stretch on forever, yet never seem to lead anywhere. Walls that subtly shift and rearrange themselves when not directly observed. Angles that defy Euclidean logic, creating an unsettling disorientation—a feeling that you are simultaneously within a familiar space and utterly alien. The light behaves strangely – sometimes too bright, sometimes swallowed by impenetrable shadows. Sounds become distorted, echoes linger where they shouldn’t, and the very air seems to vibrate with an unseen energy.

It’s as if one has stumbled into a realm governed by a different set of physical laws—a place where the boundaries between dimensions blur, and the solidity of matter becomes questionable. The architecture isn’t merely unusual; it is wrong. It evokes a primal unease, a sense that something fundamental about existence itself is being challenged. This feeling resonates with descriptions found in the works of H.P. Lovecraft, who possessed an uncanny ability to convey the terror of encountering geometries and dimensions beyond human comprehension—corners where reality bends and breaks, revealing glimpses into a cosmic indifference that dwarfs our own concerns.

Achieving Liminality: Internal Mechanisms & Autopoietic Systems

The intriguing aspect highlighted by Manfred de Pari’s work is that these liminal neural states aren’t solely dependent on external stimuli. They can be induced—to varying degrees—through internal processes, demonstrating the brain’s inherent capacity to generate altered realities. The paper identifies three primary mechanisms through which this occurs, all rooted in the principles of autopoietic systems theory:

1. Intense Inward Focus (Self-Referentiality): This involves turning your attention deeply inward, concentrating entirely on your own thoughts, feelings, memories, or physical sensations. Imagine meditating so profoundly on your own breath or heartbeat that the outside world seems to fade away completely—leaving only the echo of your inner self. When attention is withdrawn from external stimuli and locked onto the self, the usual sense of being grounded in the environment can dissolve. The boundaries between inner experience and perceived reality become fluid, potentially opening the mind to internal worlds or altered perceptions that feel intensely real, making one susceptible to influences that bypass normal sensory routes.
2. Intense Outward Focus (Hetero-Referentiality): Conversely, one might achieve a liminal state by focusing attention with extreme intensity on something external. This could be staring fixedly at a flickering flame, getting lost in a repetitive natural pattern like flowing water, or becoming completely absorbed in a piece of music or a specific object. In this state, the sense of ‘self’ as a distinct observer can begin to diminish—almost merging with the object of attention. The world is no longer processed as separate bits of information but can feel like an overwhelming, unified whole. This absorption can also cause ordinary reality to recede, creating an opening for non-ordinary perceptions or influences associated with the focal point or the environment.
3. Focusing on the Boundary Itself (Interaction/Dynamic): This third pathway is perhaps the most subtle. It involves attending not just to the self or the external world, but to the dynamic interplay between them—the very process of perception, the edge where inner feeling meets outer reality. It’s like becoming aware of the act of seeing rather than just what is seen, or feeling the point where your body meets the air. This heightened awareness of the interaction point, the boundary zone, can itself induce a state of flux. Normal categories of ‘me’ and ‘not me’ become less defined, making the threshold between internal state and external environment exceptionally permeable. This state might be key to understanding how the specific energies or geometries of a place can directly influence one’s consciousness.

The speed with which these transitions occur – whether it’s a gradual fading of reality or an abrupt shift into another state – is directly related to an individual’s inherent capacity for entering these liminal neural states. Those who possess a natural inclination towards these shifts in awareness are more likely to experience rapid and profound shifts in consciousness. Others may find themselves trapped in a prolonged twilight zone, experiencing only fleeting glimpses of altered reality before being pulled back into the familiar constraints of ordinary perception. And some, sadly, may simply perceive nothing at all—the portal remains closed to them, its secrets forever beyond their grasp.

A key position here, and the one that I’m trying to highlight in this article that is often, most often, overlooked is personal energy. Inner alchemy states that the difference between those that can subtly affect their awareness to attain these liminal conscious states are those that have a higher energy.

The Energetic Gradient: Cultivating Resonance with Liminality

From the viewpoint of inner alchemy, the disparities in individual susceptibility to liminal experiences aren’t primarily about inherent intellectual capacity or psychological makeup; they are fundamentally energetic. Some individuals possess a naturally greater reservoir of vital force—a more robust energetic field—than others. This isn’t necessarily tied to physical health or even emotional stability; it can be simply an innate predisposition, a birthright bestowed by lineage or circumstance. However, unlike many traits we consider fixed, energetic capacity is not immutable. It can be cultivated and amplified through dedicated practice.

As detailed in my book, The Magnum Opus: A Step-by-Step Course, the acquisition of energy forms the bedrock of inner alchemical work. Specific techniques, are designed to unlock dormant energetic pathways within the body, strengthen the personal energy field, and increase overall vitality. This isn’t about accumulating power for its own sake; it’s about creating a resonant field that allows one to interact more effectively with subtle energies and altered states of consciousness. It is, in essence, shamanic or sorcery training; the art of harnessing and directing vital force. Only when this energetic foundation is established can one truly begin to explore the liminal realms within their mind and engage meaningfully with the power spots and inner earth caves that serve as conduits for these energies.

The Geometry of Madness: Lovecraftian Corners and the Shaping of Awareness

These power spots, particularly those found deep within subterranean formations—the inner earth caves—are not merely geological anomalies; they are living geometries, imbued with an alien intelligence. They possess a quality that can only be described as wrong. It’s a feeling that arises not from fear, but from a profound cognitive dissonance – the realization that the fundamental rules governing space and perception do not apply within these confines.

Imagine descending into a cavern where the walls curve inward at impossible angles, defying all notions of parallel lines. Passages twist and turn in ways that seem to violate the laws of physics, creating an unsettling sense of disorientation. The very air shimmers with an unseen energy, distorting light and sound in unpredictable patterns. Shadows lengthen and contract without apparent cause, playing tricks on the eye and blurring the distinction between reality and illusion.

The architecture isn’t constructed; it grows, as if sculpted by forces beyond human comprehension. There are alcoves that seem to breathe, pulsating with a faint, internal luminescence. Corridors narrow abruptly, then expand into vast chambers where the ceiling vanishes into an impenetrable darkness. The stone itself feels… alive—cold and smooth in some places, rough and porous in others, as if it were composed of countless tiny organisms working in concert.

These aren’t merely visual distortions; they are perceptual manipulations. The non-Euclidean geometry actively warps awareness, disrupting the brain’s ability to create a coherent model of reality. It’s as though the very fabric of space is being reconfigured around you, bending and twisting until it conforms to an alien logic. This disorientation isn’t accidental; it’s a deliberate mechanism—a way for these spaces to induce liminal neural states in those who enter.

The manipulation of awareness through these odd corners is key. As the brain struggles to reconcile its expectations with the sensory input, it begins to relinquish its grip on conventional reality. The boundaries between self and other blur, the distinction between internal thought and external perception dissolves, and the mind becomes increasingly susceptible to suggestion—to the subtle influences emanating from the space itself. It’s a process of gradual erosion, where the familiar world is slowly peeled away, revealing glimpses of something… else.

This susceptibility is particularly pronounced in children. Their minds are still malleable, their energetic fields more potent, and their inherent skepticism less developed. They are like antennae, readily picking up subtle signals from the environment—signals that adults have learned to filter out or ignore. A child wandering into one of these liminal spaces might experience a sudden shift in perception—a feeling of being transported elsewhere, a fleeting glimpse of another world—without even realizing what has occurred. The space subtly alters their internal landscape, reshaping their liminal states and potentially transporting them across dimensions with ease.

The ability to traverse these spatial anomalies isn’t about possessing some extraordinary power; it’s about cultivating the energetic resonance necessary to harmonize with the alien geometries of these spaces—to allow oneself to be reshaped by their influence, and ultimately, to be transported beyond the confines of ordinary reality. It is a delicate working between surrender and control – a willingness to relinquish one’s preconceived notions while maintaining a core sense of self. And it is a journey that demands both rigorous energetic preparation and an unwavering commitment to exploring the uncharted territories within—and without.

The Unseen World Beckons: A Realm of Infinite Possibilities

Magical liminal spaces and power spots are scattered throughout existence—glimmering fragments of other realities waiting to be discovered. The world is not a fixed and immutable entity; it’s a shimmering expanse woven with countless liminal spaces, magical places lurking just around the next bend, concealed within the next odd corner. They lead to realms beyond imagining – to OZ, to the fantastical world Alice stumbled upon through the looking glass. These spaces exist all around us now, present even in the room you occupy at this very moment.

Consider those seemingly eerie quiet spots, echoing the unsettling familiarity of the “Backrooms” with their yellowish, dated interiors—places where the possibility exists to move between worlds. But these “Backrooms” become more accessible to some than others. And that is a key aspect of this article: the understanding that there must be a give-and-take between the individual and those places themselves. This is why some find them, while others do not—it’s an energetic principle, and it’s the cornerstone of sorcery or magic practice as detailed in The Magnum Opus.

But the true mastery lies beyond simply locating these external liminal spaces. It resides in cultivating the internal scaffolding that allows you to engage with them. For example, within my book The Occult Experience, I delve into the profound power of “not-doing”—a state of deliberate movement into Liminal Consciousness through suspension of habitual patterns, and reduction of habitual self-reference that unlocks a gateway to those liminal neural states discussed by Manfred De Pari. Through this not-doing, your inner energy is engaged, reshaping your awareness and allowing you to move in and through that inward motion. As you go in, you actually go without—you project your consciousness outward, moving across space and time without physical movement. This is what I have termed the way of the projectionist: a mastery over perception itself, enabling travel beyond the confines of the body.

Therefore, for those willing to look beyond the rational, the commonplace, the routinary, the sane, the dogmatic—to find magic in that kind of ‘not doing,’ infinite possibilities await. The ability to discover liminal spaces and magic resides at every corner, both within your own mind and in the objective realities that exist just beyond our everyday perception. This can be achieved through greater energetic cultivation and a deeper understanding of the inherent oddness of reality—something I have explored specifically in The Occult Experience.

Dare to look closer. Dare to question what you perceive as real. The unseen world beckons.