Thresholds

Every morning we transition from the dark of night into the light of day. We cross a threshold; ascending from the world of dreams.

If you’ve watched a sunrise, you may have noticed. You cannot rush nature. You also cannot rush the emergence of the soul. This time in between, also cannot be rushed.

How do you transition? Move from engagement to disengagement and back again. How do you dance with the element of time? What is your relationship to this moment and the next?

Transition is an art form. How we move from one state of being to another. Recognizing there is space in between. Treating that space with as much care and awareness as when we are here or there. 

Thresholds mark the movement from one time in life to another. Imagine birth, graduations, marriage, divorce, retirement, death, pandemics. 

Imagine this time on the planet, this global pandemic as a threshold.

Below, I offer a practice I learned in Ireland, at a Celtic Spirituality retreat:

Sit at the threshold and ask these questions:

What am I moving to?

What am I moving from?

What gift do I need to move into the next space?

One moment transitions to another, inhale to exhale, minute to minute, day by day, week after week. 

Sunrise and a cup of coffee are part of my morning ritual. Recently the carpenter beetles have joined in. One more sound in the early hours. Birds, dogs in the distance, goats and cow bells with the hum of a black beetle and another, and sometimes I can hear the sea.

I walk in the arroyo or hike up the hill, have breakfast and move into the engagements of the day. Among the daily routine, there is work, creativity, cleaning, wondering, making meals with the family, evening reading, and pizza and movie nights. The days are getting longer. Evenings outside are lovely. Pulling weeds is satisfying. Desert gardens are prickly.  

Part of my daily routine includes yoga in the afternoon. After lockdown began, I noticed that between 4 and 7 pm, I was feeling an intense low. Tears, sadness, a sense of overwhelm started to creep in with the image of a dark hole. This became a good time to insert a ritual, a transition from the lighter part of the day, into dinner time, sunset, the dark of night and hopefully, a better sleep. 

Yoga and meditation happen on and off the mat. It is an integral lifestyle. Time on the mat has been a regular part of my life for many years. With a full teaching schedule, my regular practice became regularly irregular. Morning seated meditation was consistent. Asana (physical postures) practice would happen at different times of day. Now, it has to be consistent. My routine is stronger.

In the midst of large unknowns, having a set daily time and duration for yoga and meditation practice has been crucial. Inserting this practice in the middle of the afternoon, especially to support me through the most challenging part of day, has been medicinal. The practice of connecting with the breath, on and off the mat, brings me home when I feel thrown off kilter.

I am currently working on a few designs and new conversations offer hope as others dream of new lives in Baja. I am halfway through a meditation teacher's course. Javier and I discuss the next steps for our ranch property. We are creating sustainability, sovereignty, autonomy.  I wonder when our daughter will go back to school. She is learning how to study online. I work with our grown son as he assists my return to design with the addition of his own skills. I research how to reopen a yoga studio and give myself time to assimilate. Meanwhile, I work with others to build online presence and maintain connections virtually. I think about holistic health and conventional medicine and research how they merge. I wonder what will happen to our bodywork practices, and how our lives will unfold. Our community will benefit from a gentle and calm reentry when the quarantine is lifted.

I appreciate the clarity, this time to move at a rhythm close to soul and less taxing on nature and mother earth. My car is parked. I do half the amount of laundry I did before the pandemic. My pantry and refrigerator are organized and my relationship to creating meals with family is dynamic and interesting. There is time.

In work, wondering and in between, my ally is a relationship with the minute to minute, inhale and exhale, the daily routine and a new found unfolding sense of rhythm. I notice what I can do, breathe and hold space for myself when I feel moments of intense despair. That is not easy. I do what I can and feels in alignment with our values, intentions, and goals.

Life changes overnight. Everything is sacred. Routines become rituals, rites to observe and appreciate daily. Rituals support the crossing of thresholds; big, small and in between.

Every week, I write. This, I can count on. I can choose a word and hold it in my mind. I can let that word move with me as I transition day by day. I can experience this time and share the parts I choose to share.

As we share this mysterious time on earth, the vast reminder of the unknown is with us daily, clearer and more intense than ever.

What am I moving to and what gift do I need to move into the next space?

Transitioning through thresholds, individually and collectively, I recognize that there is no going back. Nor is there a desire to do so. However, there are key parts of a routine that I can bring with me, a cup of coffee with sunrise; I can allocate times for engagement and disengagement, a ritualistic approach to the sacredness of daily life.

I can meet the night with gratitude, for I have lived another day. Again, it is time to dream.

A Daily Blessing

March 5, 2017

Wherever you are,

in this moment and

on this day,

inhale deeply,

exhale completely.

Notice a few of life's

constant companions.

Sky above you,

earth beneath you,

breath within you.

Heartbeat guiding

every step.

Wherever you are,

in this moment and

on this day,

may you feel

sheltered, loved

and embraced.

Tehroma