It is morning, afternoon or evening. Begin A Book of Hours, Thomas Merton
I wonder if we cross thresholds all the time, our body, our emotions, our thoughts. Maybe they cross at different times and at different rates. Maybe parts of us are frequently out of sync stretching out to catch up or truculently resisting harmony. I guess there are very definite, conscious thresholds too. There is morning, afternoon, evening. There is autumn, winter, spring and summer. Jesus becomes a baby, Jesus is baptized or goes into the desert, Jesus at the last supper, Jesus on the cross, Jesus in the tomb. Entering parenthood, nursing someone on the point of death, starting school, the first day in a new job. We flinch and we embrace, we hold and we let go.