Thresholds

From the ancient lore comes a tradition of stepping across doorway thresholds with a deliberate mind.  The forefoot advances with unformed anticipation, while the aft briefly lingers with grateful regard.  Grace resides in the pause between, a blessing from an unseen source.

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Winter’s Sun

Solstice is our planetary threshold, spacious enough for all to freely cross; the southern legions come north––come they must, and go we will.  In the intimacies of this grand affair––pole to pole––secrets are sometimes revealed, although usually overlooked for their subtleties.  If you were otherwise engaged to notice our recent global passage––sun to sun––take heedful comfort in knowing that a solstice resides in the center of every breath.  The lore instructs the attentive further, with an injunction to keep the door-stoop and threshold clear––a practice which speaks for itself.

On the archer’s range we deal with innumerable thresholds, one of the more apparent occurs at anchor-point, where/when a well drawn arrow reaches the nexus of tension between effort and surrender, time’s threshold otherwise called the present moment.  If the archer eludes the hazard of hesitation and the temptation of haste, the “still” arrow ripens into a shot that falls from a bow like an apple from a tree.

 

Winter Solstice

Leaning into Winter’s gate, night overcomes our day.  The intimacies of light which we huddle around, can burn in three degrees, but in crossing the threshold we turn inside out and lift the Capricorn sun back home to our zenith.  Before you go, dear traveler, turn North, and in the luminous night use winter eyes to glimpse the supernal light emanating from the dark gate of your empty mirror…  Winter’s midnight sun is all yours.

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Note to Hermes:

“Seize hold of the cable of

The ray of light and

Rise to the battlements of

The Throne.”