On thresholds

A question for you, dear soul: what does “threshold” mean for you, in this moment?

I will offer my thoughts.

I’ve moved to the city. I’ve stopped wearing makeup. We’ve sold our car. I’ve began running again. Writing again. I’ve planted a little garden on our roof. My partner’s schooling demands 60-70 hours a week. My friends who lived here moved shortly after I arrived, or are moving soon.

I find myself at a threshold.

A stepping through a portal, leaving an old world and old way of being in said world behind. Stepping into a new and unfamiliar space, and unfamiliar way of being in this space—yet trusting that this path is laid before me, and those that came before me too have walked this path.

A gateway of catalytic transformation. I am not the same, nor can I be. I transform to meet this new world I enter, more of me arising within and revealing itself to me.

A right of passage, a landmark in my journey, distinguishing “then” and “now.” It’s an alchemic moment. Though liminal space may lead up to a threshold, the threshold itself is marked. A single instant, bookended between “before” and “after.” The turning of a page, the end of a one chapter and the beginning of a new.

It is in nature, irreversible. A disappearing door. The channel through which I pass into becoming. Our inner landscapes need these moments as catalysts.

Thresholds always usher in the new, allowing the old to wither and die and fertilize all that’s to come—autumn and spring, all at once.

They are mystical. They are wild. There’s no telling who exactly will await you on the other side, but it will be another layer of Self to be sure.

They demand change. I will not be the same.

I will follow the path. Keep my wild, wolfish instinct perked for the whispers of those who came before, guiding me onward.

Thresholds are exhausting. They’re significant. They’re cosmic. They’re hard. They’re disorienting. They’re magic. They’re confusing. They demand deep breaths, solitude, silence, pondering, space to mull over and chew on and hold, gentleness, utmost compassion, nourishment, protection, celebration.

Thresholds cannot be rushed by, moving on, back in business, busy, busy, busy. They arrest you, render you speechless and immobile and unable to move on and live on, until you acknowledge them.

Sacred things require sacred space.

So, I gently invite you once more: what does invitation does “threshold” offer you in this time?