Threshold

Updated: Aug 11, 2019


In Celtic culture, trees are often seen as beings that straddle the threshold between worlds.

I stand on the threshold.

I woke up here.

Feeling it in my bones and even deeper into the familiar quantum space within myself,

a dimension physics has only barely begun to guess at.

I feel into the deep well of knowing that is clear and holds all things.

It is the season that has brought me here, already changing.

The liminal in-betweenness is intoxicating, like a call through time from an ancient past.

But what is this idea? Can time be lost somewhere far away?

When I go beyond thought

I feel

and I know

time does not confine itself to lines,

not to orderly rows of marching minutes.

Time is spacious.

Just as space is timeless.

And I fall into this spacious, timeless web

and I know

I Exist.

Time can be anything I want it to be.

When I choose linear time I have the nagging sense I have lost something. As each moment manifests, the one before it is lost, sucked into the black hole of the past tense. I feel deficient, starved, anxious. I look around for what I have lost, not really knowing what it is. I look down at my hands, time passing through like water. My sense of loss turns to bitterness and resentment. Like a tidal wave, I want to pull everyone else down into my misery.

But the lens of linearity is just a construct.

A dream.

A dream I choose in every moment to perpetuate. In the dream I live in constant comparison. In it I die clinging to separateness. Like an addict, I keep going back for more, even though I know it is killing me, taking me farther away from myself.

And it does.


Only . . .


the wardrobe with the magic door stands just behind me. The Hawthorne tree holding the way open to the Otherworld. The way has been there the whole time, beckoning.

Crossing the threshold, I remember my true name. I belong and always have.

I remember, this loss I hold onto is grief, and grief is a cocoon protecting the love that connects everything.

I laugh with tearful relief.

There was never anything to lose.


I stand on the threshold. It is the season and the changing forest that has brought me here.

The door is wide open.

And beyond it, a world where I don’t doubt myself.

Here. On the other side, I know I belong.

Here. I know that my whole being is part of the fabric of existence and what I do and feel and become affects us all.

I stand on the threshold.

All I have to do is step through.

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