I stopped at the threshold between here and the other side. Why is my heart breaking in my chest? My every sense is alert, attuned for the tiniest threat, a reason to run, to turn away, to slink back once more to somewhere 'safe'.
I know this threshold well, I've come here before with dreams and plans held close to my heart, staring over into the deep unknown. I've thrown stones across The Step and watched until I saw a light come on in the distance and someone stirring in the shadows coming to meet me. That was when I'd run.
Other times, I would just find myself there, staring quietly into the forest on the other side, grateful to that which had led me to this beautiful and mysterious place, while I stand, quietly bundling the dream into myself and carrying her away.
But all the times I came and left, I always left something behind, something of myself would stay at the threshold and over time The Step become an alter inscribed with the words
“I'm not ready, this precious gift/dream/vision is too small. I can't do this.”
I stopped at the threshold between here and the other side, holding my everything, so tenderly wrapped in the cloak of Who I Am. The trees on the other side look the same as where I stand, but I don't know if they're real. I don't know if a black hole is waiting to suck me in, all of Who I Am, all that I carry so precious to me; to suck away all that isn't true, and to leave me bare with nothing to do or to be or to offer.
As I look into the mystery across the threshold, I know to lay one foot in that land will be received as an invitation
You are invited into My Life
Please show me what I do not know and do not want to see
Turn me around and upside down if that is what it will take
Have your way with me, move me when I don't know how
Carve out that space a little more,
The space inside me where wonder resides, where silence is the realm,
Where magic moves and the unseen are deepening always
Bring me to my knees Mystery, break me down to the ground
Make me know my roots are strong, that they are holding me,
That my roots come from deep below, many many long times ago.
Dress: however you will
RSVP: when the time is right
Who are you, who I am running from? Who are you who dwell on the other side? How did you come to be there?
I hold this tattered invitation in my hands, the edges of the paper are soft and worn from many foldings and unfoldings. It's written in every cell of my body, but I keep it scrunched down in the corner of my pocket, with the fluff and the five-cent coins and the lonely cashews who fell to the bottom.
Now I unfold the invitation once more, I lay it out flat. Carefully, I write it afresh; neat, clear, inviting and honest...
Mystery, I am here
Standing at the threshold, I lay this invitation upon my skin until the words are wearing me all over. They glow warm in my body and I see my cloak, a pile on the ground, a nest to come back to if I want it. I'm not cold.
I am alive and attuned for the tiniest magic, a reason to move.
I move, my foot passes through air and lands on the other side.