I’ve been thinking about thresholds a lot, those that we recognize we’re crossing and—more so—the infinitesimally small thresholds we cross all of the time without ever really realizing we’re transitioning until after we’ve gone through them and find ourselves wondering, “What happened there? How did I change into this?”
I think about the frontal system that spilled into and filled tonight’s twilight, the night’s threshold time, layer by layer. The uplifted hurry-scurrying of winds shoved forward by the thickening air mass behind it, with the first few and far between rain drops flickering past—is this the beginning of the storm? A threshold?
The air around me is different, not what it was, but the storm is not fully upon me yet and won’t be for perhaps another twenty or so minutes. So, has it really begun? The whorls and eddies of the winds, like centurions and their legionaries, are too busy shaking dead palm fronds out of their clinginess, too focused on clearing a path for the grand entrance of the storm lumbering behind them to whisper any secrets to me, a mere mortal.
Something is happening. Something is coming. Something is almost here.
The winds, wild with mysteries and secrets, scream as they filter past the thrashing trees. Twilight, already so brief, so constrained, is subsumed—consumed—by slate-grey, thick-as-pudding clouds, distended and turgid with change. There is no sun, there is no moon; there is only twilight, only the infinite possibility that is twilight.
And in this moment, like lightning strobing into the ground, I realize I am contained by my skin, but just barely. I find myself wanting to dissolve into the edge of the coming storm, wanting to become one with the elements, wanting to tip from that moment of becoming into that moment of having become. Yearning to slip from the possible, the potential, into sure certainty.
I lean into the storm with this sudden Knowing: I am the infinitely possibility that is twilight. I, too, am wild with mysteries and secrets. Something is happening, and it is me. Something is almost here, and it is me. A Me that is awake, alive, attuned, with nothing to hide.
As Above, so Below. As with me, so too with you.
You can hear more of The Corner Crone during her Moments For Meditation on KPPR Pure Pagan Radio on TuneIn or on YouTube. Follow her on Twitter and on Instagram.
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