Crossing Thresholds – Going Back & Forth Across The Doorsill
Going Back and Forth Across the Doorsill
“Do exactly what you would do if you felt most secure.”
– Meister Eckhart
Threshold: defined – the magnitude or intensity that must be exceeded for a certain reaction, phenomenon, result, or condition to occur or be manifested.
“If the call is heeded, the individual is invoked to engage in a dangerous adventure. It’s always a dangerous adventure because you’re moving out of the familiar sphere of your community…I call this crossing the threshold. This is the crossing from the conscious into the unconscious world, but the unconscious world is represented in many, many different images…It may be a plunge into the ocean, it may be a passage into the desert, it may be getting lost in a dark forest, it may be finding yourself in a strange city…but this is the adventure – it’s always the path into the unknown, through the gateway or the cave or the clashing rocks…The idea in the hero adventure is to walk bodily through the door into the world where the dualistic rules don’t apply.”
– Joseph Campbell, Hero With a Thousand Faces.
“The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you,
don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.”
Joseph Campbell’s engaging prose begins this essay for us; we follow this with invitation from Rumi to go back and forth across that threshold where the worlds of sleep (the unconscious) and awakening (consciousness) touch. Let’s begin with a reflection on the opening lines from his poem. A call to awakening is a call to pay close attention to what we might typically not notice, or choose to ignore.
“The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you,
don’t go back to sleep.
Rumi tells us that if we can pay close attention to the feel of the wind as it gently moves against our skin in the early morning hours of awakening – as the sun begins to bring forth and become the light of day – then we can pay attention in the same way to what is happening within the subtle landscapes of our own inner being. If we can focus our senses on the deeper and quieter nuances of what is happening in the natural world around us during those hours when many are still asleep – then we can pay closer attention to what is moving through us in the depths our psyche and body as well.
By paying closer attention to ourselves, we can allow that which usually remains buried in the unconscious ground of our being to begin to slip forth into the daylight of our awareness – like a light breeze brushing against our skin.
Don’t go back to sleep. Rumi implores us to stay attentive throughout his poem. Don’t get too distracted. Don’t become too sedated by sameness or worn down by anxiety. Don’t get lost in aimlessness or mindlessness, or in the endless trail of mental rumination. Come back to our senses: our sight; our hearing; our touch, smell, and taste. Keep paying attention by sensing into what is really happening, right now, in the life around us, and within us, right now. Don’t be caught up in the illusions of the mind, mistaking it for what is real!
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
The call to adventure is about listening for what we most desire in this life. The call is towards that which we feel we must do, or become. We must have access to the sacredness of our deeper longings, so we can move towards what we really want, so we can take up the hero’s adventure. We must ask for what we really want.
We self-activate by accessing the energy we have locked up in the core of our being; this inner activation is brought on by the asking, in and of itself. We have to ask others for help. We petition the gods, our highest and best self, our divine intercessors. We must petition our own soul for assistance – that which has brought us here, and is seeing to this very incarnation we have undertaken. Our purpose and our fulfillment lie in knowing what we really value, what we can give our very lives to. We must ask for this, even when (or especially when) we don’t know what it is yet.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
For me, this is a powerful line in Rumi’s poem. Those who are awakened are already going back and forth across the threshold between the mundane tasks of this world, and the depth encounters with what is eternal in the ‘other’ world, the one beyond this one. These conscious others are the people who are walking in two worlds.
Perhaps we are these people. This is what many of us really want. We want to find the place in us where the world of spirit and the world of matter touch, where the logos of the ‘Word’ is en-fleshed by us. We desire more than anything to go back and forth from the ordinary world to that which awaits us beyond what is here; then to come from the eternal with our gifts, back to here.
Many of us learned as young children that if only we were good, we would one day be rewarded by going to heaven when we died. We also were taught that if we were bad, we would go to hell forever, after this life ended. Many of us have carried these deep-seated beliefs forward throughout our lives; even if, as adults, we have become less convinced of a literal final Judgment Day event, where a good/bad duality is the ultimate determinant for our final destination.
What many of us have awakened to is the cosmological reality that heaven and hell are not literal places we go to when we die. Rather, we can embrace them as states of consciousness that are ever-present, to be accessed right here in this world. When we are in harmony with our true selves and with the world around us; when we experience the awe of unfolding mystery; when we encounter various and sublime states of love – we go to the place within us that is heavenly.
Conversely, when we are locked in anxious or depressive states, compulsive addictions or fear-based, or hostile ruminations, we feel despairingly unable to access loving states of being. We are, in these internal ways, cast out of our God’s loving presence. We feel unavailable to and/or unworthy of the love of others. We are in hell. (This reminds me of a popular aphorism I have often heard: that religion helps those who are afraid of going to hell, and spirituality helps those who have already been there.)
When we feel imprisoned by what ails us, sense no way out, nor perceive any viable or meaningful future, we will not be able to see any open doors before us in this life.
This leaves us no other option than to hope for the attainment of heaven in the next life.
But here, Rumi tells us that there is a doorway in this world, and it leads to the heavenly realms beyond this one, and it is round and open. It is accessible to us, here and now, if only we can learn ways to cross this threshold.
The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.”
The hero task here, the one that takes us towards our essential ‘questing’ adventure, is the one that causes us to search for that doorway which will lead us to the other worlds – while we are still in this one. Then the bigger questions come forth to pull us towards the threshold: “Where did I come from? Where I am going? What am I supposed to be do doing?”
How do we find this threshold doorway between the worlds? What creates the doorsill opening for us? What allows us to pass through and into the unknown that lies beyond the doorway?
What if the door between this world and the other world, the one filled with wonder, mystery and adventure, is to be found right where our most troublesome obstacles, barriers and issues are located?
What is it that allows something in our lives to shift
from being a barrier to becoming a passage?
Thresholds are important markers of change along the territories of our interior regions, just as they can markers found at certain places of change in our external landscapes. They create distinct boundary delineations and they create contrast – differentiating and distinguishing the territories on either side of the marking.
They also inform us that something important is happening, or about to happen. The crossing point is primarily a ritual of recognition, an awareness that something is about to change.
Reminiscing back over my own travel history, I can recall some very distinct border crossing experiences made especially noteworthy due to the vast differences between the country of departure and the country of entry. Going from the California border in the US, and crossing over into Mexico, for instance. Going from Gibraltar into Morocco. Crossing into (the former) Yugoslavia from Austria.
One distinct feature of border crossings such as these is that you pay much closer attention than you were paying before you approached the border. At a new country’s border there may be armed guardians in the uniforms of military personnel – identity and passport checks, sometimes a thorough vehicle search. There is often a noteworthy change in mood, in language, in customs and social protocols, and perhaps even the literal terrain.
Letting Go – Leaving Something Familiar Behind at the Threshold
Let’s turn now to the poetry of David Whyte, as we return to one of the fundamental tasks required of the hero, the one who responds to the inner call to adventure and now approaches a threshold: We must let go of something very fundamental and familiar. We must let go of that which we already know (and perhaps know too well) before we can go any further into the unknown.
In this high place
It is as simple as this,
Leave everything you know behind.
A ‘high place’ represents a place above and beyond where we typically go in our lives. It is a metaphor for ascending to a heightened state of consciousness. In order to arrive here, we have to take up a simple and sometimes very daunting task: Leave everything you know behind. If we already know something (especially if we think we already know an outcome in advance), there is no adventure in that, and certainly no learning of anything new.
Joseph Campbell often emphasized this fact. He said, “One way to deprive yourself of an experience is indeed to expect it. Another is to have a name for it before you have the experience.”
This kind of control and expectation imposes itself on aliveness. It devalues and distances us from the vicissitudes and vulnerabilities our lived experience, which is necessary for the humility, awe and respect to be had for a proper and worthwhile adventure, and all that is sacred.
Sacredness does not wish to be subjected to our ego wishes, nor to our control. Rilke said “what is Eternal does not want to be bent by us.” Leaving something behind, particularly those things to which we have been attached and by which have been bound, is part of the entry fee into the realm of soul adventure.
Step toward the cold surface,
Say the old prayer of rough love
And open both arms.
We all know this distinct moment in time – the shivering chill of bodily sensation, standing before the cold surface of a body of water – right before we walk or plunge in. Perhaps you can recall standing at the edge of a diving board at a swimming pool, or at the edge of the sandy beach, with water moving in over your feet. Time slows down for an instant; we may stand at this threshold for a while.
The “old prayer of rough love” is the encouragement we give to ourselves in order to go forth into the water, knowing how it will disrupt our kinesthetic comfort level. We will abruptly feel sensation on our skin very different from our current state once we directly encounter the water. But that is also the very reason why we want to enter the water, as well! We go into the water to have a lived experience in our bodies, and to feel the changing state of our being as we do.
In order to transition, to move from solid ground into the fluid, moving element of water, we must know what we really want. We must open our arms to swim, as we must open our minds to change and grow. We must open our hearts to love, and being loved, and also to doing what we most love. We need a sense of buoyancy for both swimming and loving.
Those who come with empty hands
Will stare into the lake astonished,
There, in the cold light
Reflecting pure snow
Here, the opportunity for the hero is to travel as lightly as possible as he or she crosses a threshold. Empty hands are the metaphorical image for having to let go of something that has been held onto, or held back. Letting go of fears, worries, or self interest. Letting go of old habits, fixed ideas, broken ideals. Letting go of expectations for our selves and others, which is another big challenge for many of us. Then there is something that I watch many people cling to for dear life, regardless of whether or not it serves their life – letting go of sameness.
Finding the courage to let go, when sameness no longer serves life, but instead constricts and confines it, requires us to enter into a particular vulnerability that can open us; one that allows for awe, even astonishment, to enter. Now something can suddenly penetrate into awareness: clarity – an appropriate metaphor for “cold light.” Something clean, clear and enlightening can now come in, like a refreshing swim in a saltwater ocean. Newness, going beyond sameness, can feel just like that.
The true shape of your own face.
This is what awaits us when we successfully cross a long-bound limit or a threatening threshold. It puts us in touch with an essential sense of true-ness, of right relationship, where we feel like we are becoming ourselves again (or like never before). We become something beyond the society’s expectation and demand of us.
Before we can arrive at the true shape of our essential nature, we have to learn how to recognize, face and cross over many threshold points, over and over again, finding a way to move beyond thresholds that have previously been only obstacles to us.
Facing Our Threshold Guardians
Crossing the threshold involves going from the conscious world to the unconscious world, going from what you know to what you don’t (yet) know. This inevitably requires us to confront deep-seated fears and lifelong belief systems that have both contained and confined us. As we go forward into new territory, it is our fate to face the fears we are most strongly identified with, and thus most strongly bound by.
Our most natural instinct is to be physically or emotionally contained when we are afraid – we look to be held, literally or psychically, by another. We seek out security, something or someone to stabilize us when we are shaken by life. Fears that linger and lurk over time work their way down into our unconscious terrain, and disappear from our awareness. From deep down below, they control us in such a way that we agree to be confined, constricted and even imprisoned by them, sometimes in the most peculiar and irrational ways.
In the realm of myths we encounter ‘Threshold Guardians’. They are the watchers and keepers of the established bounds. These creatures are personifications and representations that stand for the limits of our old fears, wounds, belief systems, and worldviews. Joseph Campbell said it like this, “The powers of the psyche that keep watch at the boundary are seen as dangerous, and to confront them feels risky; yet for anyone with competence and courage the danger fades.”
Campbell went on to say that they show us “the ambiguities of this perplexing passage”; and even though the fears will “recede before a genuine psychological readiness; the over-confident adventure may be shamelessly undone.”
The heroic task is to go inward, to find and face the specific psychic powers that hold us back from venturing. There is an emblematic scene that personifies and plays out this task in the Star Wars trilogy: Luke has to confront his fears of becoming a Jedi Knight. He enters into the dark passage of a cave, not knowing the way through, or even the way out. He is then confronted by the image of Darth Vader, his ‘dark father’.
Vader represents the soul-killing expectations and requirements of society upon the individual – participation in activities that offer rewards of success, prestige and promotion. But they cost us our souls, rendering us into an empty, life-draining darkness. Luke has to fight with this dark, internalized aspect of himself – the aspect that fights against his own nature – in order to pass through the threshold limits within, before he can fulfill the destiny that was meant for him.
Another way to understand the threshold guardians of mythic adventure is to recognize them as gatekeepers for our integrity and authenticity. No one gets a “free ride” when it comes to journeying into soul consciousness. We all must be willing to directly face what holds us back in life, and sometimes we might even have to be willing to bring these fears with us, once we are conscious of them.
In this way, our fears can eventually become our allies, giving us the necessary motivation and energy to move forward towards our most sought after pursuits with humility and with respect for our humanity.
What is the primary ‘threshold guardian’ in your present life? What is the fear that keeps you bound beyond a good and healthy containment for you? What keeps you bound to a same-ness and small-ness in your life? Can you risk confronting this internal aspect of yourself that obstructs your path? What can it teach you?
A threshold guardian that I have come to recognize and know, one that has had a long established place in my interior world, is despair. Through my self-reflections over the years, I came to recognize that as a boy growing up, I carried around with me a mild, persistent and pervasive feeling that whatever I truly needed or wanted would never come to be.
I never spoke about this feeling when I was a boy that I can recall. I don’t think I could have ever really named it, or would have known what to call it. I just walked around with this feeling like an ever-present companion in the background of my life. In those days and times of my youth, a young person’s interior life did not seem to get much attention from parents or teachers, or any significant adult figure for that matter. Life seemed much more task-oriented then.
And in fact, in my world, life seemed to go much better if there wasn’t any attention directed to my interior. I never felt as if I were purposely being neglected or ignored, it just seemed to be the way the adult world around me operated. There were rules to follow, people to obey, things to get done, and ways to abide by. If you didn’t follow along, retribution would be swift and often severe. So, an interior world would just get in the way of proper attitudes and behaviors that satisfied the adults in my home and school life, and made life easier on the surface.
I learned not to ask for too much, and especially not to want for anything too badly, or too particularly. The satisfaction of such wants would seem unreasonable or impossible. Staying over at a friend’s house, getting the tennis shoes I coveted, asking for money for the ice cream truck, going to a big league baseball game – these types of matters seemed consistently either too much to ask for, too expensive to consider, or too problematic to risk. They were simply out of the question.
So I learned not to ask and I learned not to want. Except mastering the latter had side effects. The longing for the things or activities I loved never quite went away inside, and it was always lurking nearby. With my deeper wishes suppressed, a vague despairing feeling festered and grew in the background, and came rushing forward when I felt that something I wanted was important to me. It caused me ongoing internal distre
As I moved into puberty and early adolescence, I found many ways to be self-reliant, and I was rewarded for being so. This was a fruitful and satisfying period in my life. I made new friends, had new experiences and always made my own money. (I had found ways to earn my own wages outside of the home since I was eight years old.) When I turned 16, I was able to buy my own car with the money I had saved from a large and rather lucrative newspaper delivery route. I didn’t seem to carry that despair with me any longer, now I felt liberated. I could make my way in the world as I pleased.
It wasn’t until I began doing my own internal work in my late 20’s that I began to recognize this vague pull of despair in me, especially whenever I considered going after what I really wanted. It had followed me into my adult life, after all. I came to see that it was brought on by a belief that I could never really be supported in the pursuit of personal things that I loved most, things that would be for my own joy. This kind of support felt unrealizable to me; I believed it only happened for other people.
I began to make the effort of paying attention to the distinct downward and dampening feeling quality of despair, how it takes the wind out of one’s sails – or better stated, how it never lets the wind fully get into one’s sails to begin with. I noticed just how it would arise to ward off deeper feelings of desire, which could go unsupported, might agitate another, or get thwarted, be ridiculed or simply go without being responded to.
I have gradually over the years come to see what a feeling of despair now represents to me: it is a gateway feeling, always briefly surfacing at times of transition or times of significance, just before I am supported, accompanied, or responded to in ever larger and more meaningful ways – either by other people or by the universe itself. This is now an unfailing process and a foolproof dynamic of my psyche’s world.
The crucial awareness for me has been to recognize this emotion as a sentinel now, and not as evidence of my eventual demise. When despair comes, it lets me know that opportunity is truly just ahead of me.
The Gateway of Wholeheartedness
Let’s return to more of Rumi’s teaching to learn about another essential hero task for crossing the threshold into the soul’s adventure: the willingness to become whole-hearted in our efforts. From another of his poems, Rumi offers us his version of a threshold guardian: fierceness of heart.
Gamble everything for love,
If you’re a true human being.
If not, leave this gathering.
Meaningful adventure cannot be entered with one’s head. Those who try to approach a soul journey with their reason fail miserably, and soon. The gamble Rumi speaks of is really no gamble at all, but it does involve a sense of risk. Security seeking, in the end, becomes the final danger for the hero. Its motives are on the low end of the evolutionary scale; security is often a contrary aim for a heroic endeavor. It goes without saying that there are definite times and places for playing it safe in life and times for being perfectly reasonable. But it will not be a high commodity in the mythic realm of adventure.
So another toll to be paid to the gatekeeper, in order to cross the threshold, is a wholehearted, fiercely loving presence. Those without it turn back in the face of the cold threat of danger or the heat of intensity. The fierce looking guardian says to us, “Get behind your heart, get real, be a vital human being living from your own experience and truth, or go back from where you came – go back home to the safe and familiar ways.” If we are caught up in abstractions, conceptualizations, or mental gymnastics, we can’t pass through.
Half-heartedness doesn’t reach into majesty.
This is a verse of Rumi’s that I read long ago and it has stayed within me ever since. Much of the tiredness and exhaustion we see in people today has to do with the very matter of half-heartedness. It is often not only due to overwork, it has more to do with a lack of heart in one’s efforts. Half-hearted efforts are often more fatiguing than no effort at all. It is like driving a car with a bad fuel mix in the engine.
We also have to look deeply at the oppositional and life-negating forces at work deep within us. We must examine more closely our inner contradictions, seeing how one half of our heart works against the other half. We have to work this through inside ourselves and find a bridge across these contradictions. Otherwise, we will not have the energy necessary to move through the buffeting cross currents and tension-filled challenges brought forth in our external world. This is an internal dynamic we must all wrestle and reconcile with on the hero’s path to adventure.
You set out to find God,
But then you keep stopping for long periods
At mean-spirited roadhouses.
Rumi gives us more of his fierce guardian’s message. We set out on the adventure many times without a strong and grounded foundation, a clear intention, and the necessary inner resources to propel us forward – essential in order to tolerate the forests of what is unknown. We get diverted and distracted; we get caught up in endless roadhouses crowded with trivial self-concerns. They pre-occupy us at best and consume us at worst.
We can become resentful and mean-spirited due to our passive dependency on the familiar people, places and things in our lives that we over-depend on to bring forth a worthwhile life for us. Our own authentic, vital and meaningful life can ultimately only come forth from within us, and it will only come from a certain whole-hearted tenacity and fierceness to follow where our bliss leads us.
Up until this point, before we cross the threshold, we are still in charge of our participation in the journey to soul, still in control of the outcome. We can still say yes or no to the adventure. But there is a certain internal pressure we begin to feel as we approach a threshold point. Something inside lets us know that “this is the point of no return.” When we cross over a mythic threshold, we can sense a deep truth: the one who goes forward from here will not be the same one who returns to here.
Of course, we may at some point return back across that same threshold point, but no longer as the ‘one’ that we have been or that others have known. The hero somehow senses he or she has become more aligned with something different, something broader or larger than one’s previous self, and ‘other than’ one’s self – the one who is now coming into being, anew. If we stay on the path of the soul adventure, this way becomes more and more the driver of our future existence.
Juan Jimenez, the Spanish sailor and poet, speaks of this soul aspect of self in a most articulate way. He speaks of the one we take the adventure with, who accompanies us into the mythic realms and will return with us when the time comes. This is the part of the self that is identified with soul:
I am not I.
I am this one
walking beside me whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
and at other times I forget.
The one who remains silent when I speak,
the one who forgives, sweet, when I hate,
the one who takes a walk
when I am indoors,
the one who will remain standing
when I die.
The Journey Now Takes You
Until we have faced our buried fears and limiting beliefs about the reality that confines us to stifling sameness and smallness; until we have aligned with a fierce, wholehearted effort-making that is more than just willful determination; and until we have surrendered into a open-armed posture of “Yes” to life as it unfolds – we are not yet ready to fully cross the threshold into our soul adventure.
But, if we can respond with a joyful heart, a certain humility, and a willingness to embrace the ambiguous and mysterious nature of a ‘zone unknown to us, we are ready to commit ourselves to the timeless adventure of a hero’s journey.
Once we make a full commitment to the journey ahead, we can surrender ourselves over to what comes. The journey now takes us. Our task will be to yield, to be taken for the ride, to be pulled into the adventures and ordeals – sometimes triumphantly, sometimes miserably.
When we are on a journey of the soul, it is not how we fall: it is about how we get back up. Either way, we have to be taken by the journey. As Campbell said, “you only have to say yes, and doors will begin to open, that would not open before, and in fact, will not open for anyone else.”
“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.
Whatever you can do,
Or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius,
Power and magic in it.”
– W. H. Murray
Having crossed the threshold, we now approach interior spaces that are symbolically represented by those dark forests, wide-open desert plains, vast mountain regions, deep ocean waters and dark underground caves. By moving beyond judging states (either towards one’s self or towards the world around us) we return to a child’s heart, capable of wonder, surprise and delight.
Here we will be able to be moved by things, caught up in raptures, entering into a full participation with whatever is taking place in front of us. The German sage and poet Rilke reminds us of these early childhood capacities. He encourages us to make use of them again now, as we move out beyond the boundaries of what is familiar, and we open up to the unknowing of what lies ahead.
We gradually learn to accept that we cannot predict nor control what comes next for us on any adventure any more than we could predict what dream we will have tonight. But, we can begin to imagine possibilities where they did not exist before, and we can move beyond our own familiar bounds, building the great arch of previously unimagined bridges, beyond opposing forces, sides, and polarities within ourselves.
As once the winged energy of delight
carried you over many chasms early on,
now beyond your own life build the great
arch of unimagined bridges.
Once we begin to have awareness that goes beyond duality, we find ourselves on more fluid ground inside, somewhere in between and beyond the opposing forces. Here we are susceptible to various states of wonder, curiosity, and intrigue, while facing the ordeals of struggle, lost-ness, and doubt. But, this is the pathway towards realizing our bliss.
Wonders happen if we can succeed
in passing through the harshest danger;
but only in a bright and purely granted
achievement can we realize the wonder.
It is a remarkable shift in perception to move beyond over-simplifications, reactionary judgments and oppositional, contentious attitudes – and instead, being able to explore what our actualized experiences and authentic responses are towards the life taking place all around us.
To work with things when building the association
beyond words is not too hard for us;
the pattern grows more intricate and subtle,
and being swept along is not enough.
To understand those inner realms of vitality and mystery is to move beyond an association with words. We don’t become mesmerized by the menu and confuse it with the meal. We can enter the fullness and satisfaction of mysteries that unfold over time, gradually leading us to ecstatic states where “words turn back.” We no longer wish to be simply swept along by events that happen in our lives. We instead want to help shape the tides of meaning-making, influence others in positive and enlivening ways, leave our mark upon the adventure, contribute something that matters, and shift the bounds of fate towards a realizable destiny.
But, we have to be willing to live with uncertainty, complexity and paradox in order to do so.
Take your practiced powers and stretch them out
until they span the abyss between two
opposing poles. Because inside human beings
is where God learns.
As we pass the threshold crossing of our limited ego identifications and polarizing states of duality, and practice the power of such spanning, we begin to rise above the abyss of ignorance, self-concern and shortsightedness. We span limitations that have kept us bound to the same issues, the same patterns, in the same way, over and over again.
It is here that we discover that by facing our obstructions we are actually creating the means for our personal transformation – and this is how you know you have made the passage through the threshold.
As this bridging happens within us we are carried to new states of consciousness, new energy sources within, and new insights that reveal both personal and universal connections. When this bridging happens, we have entered the realm of the soul’s call to life.
We begin to do exactly what we would be doing if we felt most secure: Living the adventure of our life’s time, riding wave after wave of unfolding realizations, living more and more into the privilege of being who we truly are, bringing our bliss forth into action.
Ahead await our challenges and ordeals. Soon we will need to understand how we enter the dark forest of our psyches and be undone by the potency of our unconscious, in order to live our life in new ways.
For now, we look for opportunities to move past familiar and new obstacles to the doorway or passage, cross over thresholds, letting the journey into the unknown take us.
– Michael Mervosh