The golden leaves on this tree are a threshold—so
I thought as I stood beneath it in the wind. On the frontier of transformation,
magic happens that enables the fall from one life into another. The leaves are
unleaving . . . first leaving green behind, then turning gold in a grand exit
before leaving the tree forever.
We fear such moments of change,
even when we see them coming. I know I don’t like the uncertainty and the
discomfort of the inbetween. Here’s a list of a few of such moments:
The gold is when you leave one
home or place, for another.
The gold is getting married.
The gold is having children.
The gold is leaving one kind of
work for another.
The gold is leaving one love for
another.
The gold is dying.
What courage it all takes. But when I look at this tree, listen to it, and think what I might become, I'm determined to find the
courage. I want this moment of gold, want what it leads to. So I’ll pay the price.
What is the price?
Unleaving . . . leaving our current connectedness, whatever that may be, and
for awhile become disconnected, marginal, outside. Bearing the discomfort of
being a threshold person, and learning to value it, in a society that doesn’t.
Anthropologist Victor Turner
talks about this in his book, The Ritual Process. A threshold person endures not
only the loss of their identity, but
also their status in the world. They are considered outsiders, outcasts. I think it is because threshold people make
us anxious, make us secretly fear we might be living an unexamined life.
But a threshold person emerges from transformation
to re-connect with the world in a new way.
So when it’s your time to turn
gold, don’t hurry. Savor it. Become a vessel for the ambiguous
state. The golden door is the one to walk through in order to move from an old life
into a new one.
In this season of change, may we all find the
courage to ring with gold when need calls, and then fall with our own grace into
whatever awaits us next.
Winter Bells will be announced soon.
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