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We are always on a threshold

In addition to writing this letter each week, I lead a contemplative self-care practice weekly, via Zoom, on Friday afternoons. You can read about it here.

This week, I read Threshold by Maggie Smith from her new book Goldenrod.

You want a door you can be

on both sides of at once.

You want to be

on both sides of here

and there, now and then,

together and—(what

do we call the life

we would wish back,

if we could? The before?)

—alone. But any open

space may be

a threshold, an arch

of entering and leaving.

Crossing a field, wading

through nothing

but timothy grass,

imagine yourself passing from

and into. Passing through

doorway after

doorway after doorway.

I will be forming a limited number of in-person local groups of five to six members in the coming months; please reach out if you are interested in learning more. And, if you would like to be added to my email list for the Friday 5:00 p.m. Zoom calls and receive a file of each week's poem, please respond to this post.


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