During nepantla our world views and self-identities are shattered. Nepantla is painful, messy, confusing and chaotic; it signals unexpected, uncontrollable shifts, transitions, and changes. Nepantla hurts!!!! But nepantla is also a time of self-reflection, choice, and potential growth.
—AnaLouise Keating
The concept of “nepantla” comes from the indigenous Nahuatl people of central Mexico and nearby regions. It captures a sense of being transformed in and by the wilderness. Spiritual teacher Liza Rankow finds encouragement in the wisdom it offers:
Gloria Anzaldúa wrote about the richly nuanced Nahuatl concept of nepantla. She referred to it as a state of in-between-ness, a liminal space where multiple realities simultaneously exist, and transformation can occur. Nepantla relates to both our individual journeys and our collective ones….
In the Abrahamic scriptures, the wilderness is another place of in-between-ness. Take the Exodus story about the Israelites’ escape from bondage in Egypt: their journey through the wilderness lasted 40 years before they entered Canaan, or what was referred to as “the promised land.”… The physical terrain between Egypt and Canaan wasn’t so vast that it took 40 years to cross. But the spiritual evolution necessary to move from a consciousness of bondage to a consciousness of liberation takes time. The people who emerged from the wilderness were not the ones who entered it. The number 40, which signifies completion, is not intended here as a measure of chronological time, but as an indication of a period of trials in the transition from one way of being to another.
Nepantla encourages us to embrace the in-between for all we can learn and become in the process:
Wilderness times, like those of nepantla, are painful and difficult, and most of us want to get out of them as quickly as we can. Yet to shortchange the process is to pry open a cocoon prematurely because we want the butterfly. All we’re going to find in there is goop, or a half-formed bug body with tiny useless wings. The question is not what we need in order to get out of this wilderness, but rather, what do we need to inhabit the wilderness—for as long as it takes to complete our transition, our metamorphosis. You see, the wilderness is a season not a location. And like the healing of wounds, or the becoming of a butterfly, the wilderness journey is a process, not an event.
In the culture of “life hacks” and instant gratification, the idea of tarrying in the arduous in-between of spiritual wrestling may seem entirely unappealing. It’s so tempting to want to bypass the wilderness and hurry on to the promised land. However, these experiences of formation and transformation are essential, lest we try to enter the new world with the same consciousness that created the old one.
Wildernesses are crucibles where we become the people who can live into new lands of promise and liberation.
Reference:
Liza Rankow, Soul Medicine for a Fractured World: Healing, Justice, and the Path of Wholeness (Orbis Books, 2025), 7–9.
Image credit and inspiration: Clay Banks, untitled (detail), 2020, photo, USA, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. Walking into the wild becomes a mirror of the Exodus itself—risking the unknown so that, in the wandering, we discover the quiet, faithful presence that leads us toward freedom and deeper communion with God.
Story from Our Community:
I am intrigued by the relationship between grief and joy. In 2019, my husband died from a brain tumor. It had been a very difficult year, and his death was both a great sadness and a relief. Three months later I was on a holiday in Jordan and sat one evening watching the sun set in the desert at Wadi Rum. I felt an almost ecstatic joy as the tears rolled down my face. How could I experience such joy in the midst of such grief? The sense of the Divine was so deeply present, I will never forget it.
—Christine M.
