So many thresholds are hidden. Even those with clear punctuation marks like a change of job or something that involves a ceremony. We have rituals for these. But even they are brief, perhaps a few hours, maybe a day or two. Certainly not enough time to travel such an inner distance.

Thresholds are not the funeral but the aftermath of waking up every day to not making them a cup of tea. Not the wedding, but the daily adjustments of lives intertwined. Not the school uniform photo by the front door, but the ache of desperation to fit in. Not the time off work but navigating the phased return now you feel like a different person.

Other thresholds are even less obvious. There are no punctuation marks at all. The individual just looks like they keep on going, turning up. Inwardly they may sense a fracture and all available energy is sent to try to hold it together. Because what would happen if we were no longer the responsible one? Who are we if not a resilient nurturer?

The truth is though that life is movement and we happen upon thresholds whether we planned to or not. Time and again we run over the top of thresholds, trying to cross as quickly and painlessly as possible – too terrified to stand on the rickety bridge and look down at the chasm. Sometimes we try to walk round it, try to find a narrower crossing.

To be witnessed in this time creates the validation to go slow, this will not be fixed by more busyness or another bullet point on a to do list. To be witnessed allows for the disillusionment – gives your soul room to roam. In time a new coherence may begin to take formation. The threshold itself becomes a kind of container that safely carries you from who you were before to who you are now and onwards.

It would be so terrible to travel this alone, to attempt leaps of faith in isolation, to try to apply a bandage with one hand. I like the phrase ‘in good company’. Not because you have to be good. But because to be in good company is a strong indicator of safety, and we need that when facing rickety bridges and staring down fault lines.

No matter how you do it, there is a necessary quietening and slowing down as you draw your own attention. In this slowness and liminal space, accompaniment is what you need most. Someone saying your name, hearing your voice, noticing your tentative steps, as you lay your own stepping stones across choppy waters. This not hurried work, it is both exposing and a delicate balance. You might feel unstable from time to time, get wet feet, need to stop. Your way may be unknown but it will be reflected back to you in the waters as you move from this to that.