211 questions. no right answers.
it’s easy to spend a lifetime skimming the surface.
some of these questions will feel like a soft place to land. others will catch you off guard. a few will follow you around for days. they may linger in the tender places.
you might be asked to name a fear, to follow a longing, to notice a pattern you keep repeating, to remember something your body already knows, to consider your own ending, and what it asks of the way you live now. to speak a truth out loud, to play, to grieve, to soften.
none of it is here to change you. it's an invitation to sit with yourself long enough to hear what's already there.
on your own — pull a card. write, sit, feel.
together — pull a card. share, witness, listen.
assembled by hand. the art on the back of each card, drawn. the case, hand sewn in my beloved topanga canyon. every bead and stitch, threaded by me. no two are the same.
perfectly imperfect.
the living edition — veggie tan leather, undyed. it darkens over time where you hold it and where the strap wraps around. the case you receive is the lightest it will ever be.
the heirloom edition — deep red leather, only 15 made. comes with a tall hand-poured beeswax candle.
213 four-inch round cards — 211 questions, an invitation, and a set of directions.
nothing here was rushed. every choice, down to the softness of the ink and the color and dye of the strap, was made with intention.
come back whenever you need. liminal was born from my own wondering, and made for anyone who's ever forgotten how to trust their own.
free shipping within the us. ships by october 31st. shipping outside the us is available — write to me at sarah@inbtwnspace.com to coordinate.
made in small numbers. all sales final.
a note: these questions may reach into deep places, and sometimes what surfaces asks for more than a card can hold. this deck is an invitation to reflect, not a form of therapy, diagnosis, or professional advice, and it was never meant to replace the care of people trained to sit with what's heavy. if something rises that feels too big to carry alone, let it be a sign to reach towards real support, not away from it. you deserve to be held.
211 questions. no right answers.
it’s easy to spend a lifetime skimming the surface.
some of these questions will feel like a soft place to land. others will catch you off guard. a few will follow you around for days. they may linger in the tender places.
you might be asked to name a fear, to follow a longing, to notice a pattern you keep repeating, to remember something your body already knows, to consider your own ending, and what it asks of the way you live now. to speak a truth out loud, to play, to grieve, to soften.
none of it is here to change you. it's an invitation to sit with yourself long enough to hear what's already there.
on your own — pull a card. write, sit, feel.
together — pull a card. share, witness, listen.
assembled by hand. the art on the back of each card, drawn. the case, hand sewn in my beloved topanga canyon. every bead and stitch, threaded by me. no two are the same.
perfectly imperfect.
the living edition — veggie tan leather, undyed. it darkens over time where you hold it and where the strap wraps around. the case you receive is the lightest it will ever be.
the heirloom edition — deep red leather, only 15 made. comes with a tall hand-poured beeswax candle.
213 four-inch round cards — 211 questions, an invitation, and a set of directions.
nothing here was rushed. every choice, down to the softness of the ink and the color and dye of the strap, was made with intention.
come back whenever you need. liminal was born from my own wondering, and made for anyone who's ever forgotten how to trust their own.
free shipping within the us. ships by october 31st. shipping outside the us is available — write to me at sarah@inbtwnspace.com to coordinate.
made in small numbers. all sales final.
a note: these questions may reach into deep places, and sometimes what surfaces asks for more than a card can hold. this deck is an invitation to reflect, not a form of therapy, diagnosis, or professional advice, and it was never meant to replace the care of people trained to sit with what's heavy. if something rises that feels too big to carry alone, let it be a sign to reach towards real support, not away from it. you deserve to be held.
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