It’s a wrap. Almost. December 31 to January 1 – the annual and inevitable threshold, the measurement of time witnessed by days, weeks and months throughout an entire year. Sometimes we arrive at this threshold, surprised, as if it is something new to be encountered. Sometimes we anticipate crossing into the new year with a mixture of relief and hope. We are relieved to have the old one done, wrapped up like a regifted holiday present, and hope that life must certainly become easier, or better, or warmer or well fed.
Years ago a friend introduced me to the writings of John O’Donohue and I will be forever grateful. I think I own every one of O’Donohue’s books and find myself constantly revisiting this Irish poet’s Celtic spirituality to sustain and enrich my own. (And if for some reason you don’t know O’Donohue, please dive deeply into the rich stores he has left behind him – perhaps starting with that beautifully poignant interview by Krista Tippett. https://onbeing.org/programs/john-odonohue-the-inner-landscape-of-beauty/)
After listening and reading O’Donohue, I can never again take the word “threshold” lightly. Yes, there is the threshold the carpenter installs in our homes as well as a myriad of objects and structures one must step over to move from one space to another. But, profoundly, we are faced with oh so many thresholds of living, proceeding from one moment to the next, sometimes heralded and sometimes passing in oblivion.
O’Donohue is wedded to the concept of threshold. Taken from his conversation with Tippett: “If you go back to the etymology of the word ‘threshold,’ it comes from ‘threshing,’ which is to separate the grain from the husk. So the threshold, in a way, is a place where you move into more critical and challenging and worthy fullness… the given world that we think is there and the solid ground we are on is so tentative. And a threshold is a line which separates two territories of spirit, and very often how we cross is the key thing.”
O’Donohue also says that it is important to recognize and acknowledge our personal thresholds and to move forward as we are called to do so, paying exquisite attention.
“To acknowledge and cross a new threshold is always a challenge. It demands courage and also a sense of trust in whatever is emerging.”
Perhaps you notice a collective change in the approach to the holiday season in recent years. In my circle of family, friends, clients, acquaintances and community, I do. Since March 2020 when Covid became a household word and unwanted guest, the concept of connection topped the list of that which is most important. Distant relatives and friends were able to visit face to face with the click of a mouse. Consumerism took a turn away from impulse buying in the checkout aisle to scrolling and searching in the infinite world of the internet. Instant acquisition governed shopping habits as gift cards became the gift of choice. But then, even as the virus kept us largely out of crowded shopping areas, financial insecurity put the brakes on spending for those thoughtful enough to recognize it.
Of course, these trends did not occur everywhere, but I do believe I am correct in saying that more and more of us are cherishing family ties, valuing health and well-being above status as measured by material wealth. In some homes and communities, traditions have been revived and memories dusted off. On occasion perhaps a lavish party might be declined for a quiet evening at home. “Reaching out” for help or to offer care is happening.
So where does that leave us this year as we begin to transition from 2022 to 2023? No, it absolutely does not happen with a simple countdown from 10 to 1 and a Happy New Year! There’s more to the new year’s entrance than that. Do we, as O’Donohue suggests, look ahead, pay attention, truly understand that a significant step is about to be taken? Do we know the layers of meaning, intention and challenge within this threshold? Can we possibly know what might lie ahead? Can we imagine possibilities? Are we willing to experience pain and loss and yet go on? Do we understand that the fabric of life is not smooth, but rather, richly textured and it is up to us how we work with it? Can we promise to use the tool to “Reframe” and look at what lies beyond each threshold, reframed, to something precious – to unlimited opportunity?
As O’Donohue says:
“I would love to live
like a river flows,
carried by the surprise
of its own unfolding.”
In my small world, there is suffering this year. I can only offer compassion to those who have lost loved ones (animal and human), to those struggling with health issues, to those facing scarcity. I see in a friend’s face that she is conflicted and by another’s body language that there is sadness. Is it more pronounced in these years of Covid? Are we more vulnerable?
Perhaps what needs to be done is for each of us to recognize that life as we know it is different, to get ‘back to basics,’ and to offer each other that which might be on the other side of the threshold – hope.
Simplicity is in vogue. So is courage. So is taking time to pause, to breathe, or to step outside. So is saying “I love you.” Have you noticed this? Teens say it to all their friends. I say it to mine. Text messages often include a heart emoji and phone calls often end in “love you!” Maybe that’s where we are headed in the next few weeks as we step over into the year 2023. I would LOVE that, wouldn’t you?
Watching as the world around us transition from season to season circling the year’s clock face, pass through clearly defined phases and then reconnect to begin again is a lesson in change, adaptation, and light. Yes, light. If we look – really look – with our physical eyes, inner sight, mental clarity and creative vision, we learn lessons that support and sustain us as we move forward.
Last weekend here in Vermont we were flooded with gorgeous, brilliant colors topped with a dusting of snow on our highest peaks. This weekend we are Past Peak and Still Beautiful. As I noted this on my walk, I was startled to realize that this is a meaningful concept indeed! How often do we admire an antique, painting, vintage clothing or older friend? How much do we appreciate the athlete who has transitioned from the prime days of record-breaking achievement to an athlete who, with maturity, coaches, writes, and reaches out with shared skills?
Is any of this less? Perhaps the transition itself is the learning curve to land experience as something useful rather than degenerative.
Arthur C. Brooks is a popular author whose latest book is From Strength to Strength, Finding Success, Happiness and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life. I’m taking my time with this one as there are gems on each, page. You might also enjoy this podcast conversation of Brooks with Rich Roll: 
Within the principles of the Five Element Theory of Traditional Chinese Medicine, we have fully entered the time of year associated with the Metal Element and find ourselves involved with the process of refining, honoring wisdom and self-knowledge. (Past Peak but Still Beautiful?) As Gail Reichstein writes in her excellent book, Wood Becomes Water, Chinese Medicine in Everyday Life, the emotion associated with this time of year is grief. “Grief also teaches us what we value in our lives and in the lives of others, giving us the opportunity to redirect our energies toward becoming who we most want to be.”
The energy of late summer slows and steadies. That which was sown in hope matures in abundance. The frantic rush to do it all, the greediness to experience all that the hot summer months have to offer, settles. The fire of summer segues into the deeply grounded fruition of early autumn.
Inevitably, thankfully, the seeds we planted in the spring, have grown to harvest. Roadside stands overflow with vegetables and fruit – literally the fruits of the spring labors. In TCM, late summer corresponds with the element Earth. Common sense agrees with this theory as well. Mother Earth is doing her job nurturing, nourishing and providing. At the same time, Earth represents the richness of the soil, the grounding and stability represented by the modulated energy of these days. As we harvest, we also recognize the continuity that this time signifies, the balanced energy evident in comparison with the often frenetic of previous weeks.
Here in Vermont, fall comes quickly. Already in this final week of August goldenrod flourishes, random leaves turn from green to fall colors of red and orange, and as kids go back to school, yellow school busses proliferate. Soon there will be a dusting of snow on the mountains!
Peace Pilgrim was the first woman to hike the 2050 mile long Appalachian Trail. Her response to personal anguish was to adopt the concept of a pilgrim of peace who joyfully spent her life criss-crossing the country with her message of peace. Her legacy is rich, just as the Earth season and characteristics are deep and abundant and stabilizing. She was just one person but her message continues to produce.
Is there new life to be nurtured, new ideas, new motivation, new creativity? Nourish and nurture are key components of Earth. Have at it!
So I will suggest the same to each of you, my friends. Has there ever been a time in history when someone somewhere wasn’t afraid for his or her country? Do we think Abe had it any easier? My daughter’s favorite history teacher taught what she dubbed the “spiral theory of history.” So it seems. If all we do is wring our hands, complain, or sit it out, Ryan Holiday would have some words of advice for us – strong words paraphrased from The Stoics.
So today I celebrate my family and my community. I celebrate those who have the courage to question; those who define their beliefs and values and then stand up for them. I celebrate those who reach out to the less fortunate and I celebrate those who put words into action. I celebrate those who refuse to simply accept, “it is what it is.” Furthermore, I celebrate those who do so without violence.
The Green Mountain National Forest, and more specifically the Camel’s Hump State Forest, are just outside my door. It is therefore no surprise that black bears, who find this an ideal setting in which to live, breed and raise their young, are my next-door neighbors. For the most part, they are good neighbors. They have yet to knock on my door, but they have walked within yards of my home. They keep going, though, as there is nothing to tempt them and, if she notices, my chocolate Lab, Sophie, will make quite a fuss.
But let me go back to some of what I have learned. First of all, here in Vermont, we have BLACK bears. I first learned this a few years ago. I was hiking a 4000’ trail in New Hampshire on a day when there were very few cars parked on the lot below so allowed Sophie to hike off leash. At one point she ran just ahead of me, around a sharp turn, and I heard a voice shout – “OH (expletive-expletive)! If this is a bear, I’m dead!” (Note, Sophie is effusive in her greetings.) Within seconds several other young male voices laughed and teased the first male and began to play with Sophie. One reminded him that if, in fact, this had been a brown bear, he would be dead.
Which brings me back to my Mama Bear story. In 2000, I found myself unexpectedly single and in Santa Fe with my daughter who had just graduated from high school. It was meant to be a family celebration but became something much different. With my daughter’s help, I connected with the strength that I would need to go forward and recognized that the small, stone bear I purchased had special significance for me and for the years ahead. In Native American tradition, bears symbolize physical strength, leadership and are known as the “first helper.” Bear paws are a symbol representing inner strength. My new little figurine of a Zuni bear signifies The Guardian of the Earth. A heart-line arrow going from head to heart symbolizes a warrior’s heart, strong like the bear’s. If no longer a wife, I would be forever a Mama Bear. Today my bear sits on my desk next to my computer monitor. It has traveled many miles and through many situations since the year 2000.
I return to the Mama Bear identity one last time. Perusing the internet I found one statement in an ad for what was dubbed a Mama Bear fleece, that stated: “tough mamas maximize every day.” I also landed on this: “The real definition: A mama bear is a mama with boundaries. A woman who parents the best way she can, for her child, and a woman who doesn’t apologize for her choices. A mama bear is a woman who asserts herself in any way as a parent. She says ‘no’”. Mama Bear. I’ll take it.
Note: I take issue with this survey of black bears in Vermont! The bears in my neighborhood stroll, unconcerned, across patios and along country roads. By later in the summer, when readily available food in the woods is not so readily available, “our” bears have no problem searching dumpsters, around outdoor grills and even through an open door if they happen upon one. However, I do live in a region where bears find a natural habitat. 
For three decades my habitat was a studio. Not just any studio, mind you, but two distinctly different and amazing studios. First, there was the studio in Baltimore. I began ballet lessons with the reigning royalty of classical ballet, Carol Lynn, way way back when I was just 4 years old. Miss Lynn’s kingdom was the huge ground level studio in the Peabody Conservatory of Music, Dance Department. Miss Lynn was respected far and wide as a leading expert and to study with her was deemed a privilege. The studio space was from another epoch. Gorgeous, worn wooden floors vibrated with the energy of movement over a century. Three story high windows needed to be raised and lowered with a 20-foot-long pole – or longer, I can’t really remember. Needless to say, the ceiling was waaaaaay up there. Massive mirrors covered one entire wall. A balcony lined another wall for visitors and critics. A graduate student from the Conservatory piano department accompanied classes on the baby grand in the corner. One door led to an open marble hallway and another to dressing rooms that in turn led to a courtyard. It was magical. I left this studio in my early teens to study in NYC where another old and fabulously worn studio became my home.
Though I continue to teach and write, and though I continue to spend hours each day in physical activity, I now do so with the constant reminder of the outdoors connection. Possibly, it is why we live in Vermont. The outdoors is safe. The outdoors is clean. The outdoors is free.
To help you along the way, I share with you some of my brother’s photography, each demonstrating aspects of perspective that might lead you along the path, or track, or whatever, to ponder both focus and perspective. Enjoy.
I noticed this today when I took Sophie for a woods outing and laughed out loud as she tore around in zoomies – over a bridge, into a brook, up a rock, back in the brook, back through a field of goldenrod and milkweed, and over the bridge again and again. Was it sheer joy or has she been bursting at the seams to just buzz? Anyway, it’s what I call my “anticipatory feeling.” Well, there’s that feeling, part intuitive and part reactive, that is the spirit of September. Warm weather teases us to believe there is yet more summer and maybe we can relax; and, then the cooler nights and breezy days inform us that it is well time to pick ourselves up and get organized, restart our sleepy creativity, and begin to use some of the regenerative mental and physical energy that we certainly hope has been nurtured within us.
One of my summer reads was WHAT I KNOW FOR SURE, by Oprah Winfrey (2014). It’s been on my shelf for many years but recently the time was right to have at it. I love her quote on the back cover: “I know for sure: Your journey begins with a choice to get up, step out, and live fully.” Works well with all that September represents, don’t you think?
September might well be the kickstart or restart of professional or personal structure. Perhaps we reframe each day to include dedicated blocks of time for healthy habits, a resumption of fitness hours and attention to nutritional benefits. Furthermore, in the reframing of time, perhaps there is also a reframing of motivation, gratitude and respect for the bodies and minds we exercise and fuel.
The obvious seasonal reminder of shorter days and longer evenings mandates yet another segue into the fall months. There’s no fighting it. Until December 21, darkness will increase and the need to adapt is part survival, or seen from an attitude of positivity, part curiosity.
Returning to Oprah, let me share a quote of Goethe’s: “Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it;/Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.” Oprah follows this with: “Make a decision and watch your life move forward.”