The same contractions that pushed and nudged you from the comfort and repose of your mother’s womb will again and again announce the presence of some threshold awaiting you. May you be received with welcome whenever you dare to be born again.
That initial incubation was meant to prepare you for something larger. You were, from your conception, destined to be a seeker—pilgrimaging to ever-larger worlds. These crossings will sometimes be held up with excitement and anticipation and, at other times, weighed down with the energies of fear and ambivalence.
Life will announce some threshold crossing, as did the tension pulsating on your mother’s uterine wall. You will be disturbed by loss, mediocrity, suffering, bewilderment, and betrayal—tensions asking you to look for something you may simply know as larger and nothing else.
These threshold crossings, or births, are why you came to the Earth. You have been asked to author a life—to create a unique expression of the human condition that is you. Similar to the ignorance you possessed about your first breath, your threshold crossings will often find you wanting for some knowing you have yet to possess.
At the threshold, knowing must be replaced by longing, timidity replaced by boldness, and pretense replaced by courage. There will be a tone of your lineage announcing some ancestral deprivation that kept those who came before you in a smaller story. And now you are asked to shed an old loyalty, preparing to feed some old hunger the bread of freedom, compassion, love, and belonging.
You are asked to be neither naive nor cynical about dreaming. Your dream may threaten those who have stopped dreaming. Rather than feel victimized by their fear, walk with your brother and sister who call you back to yourself when you lose your way, seduced by some enchantment or distraction.
You are a seeker—the one asked to step toward the sacred transcendent that lies beyond this moment and toward the sacred ordinary sitting before you in this present time. You are asked to surrender to a deep restlessness and a quiet presence.
May these births, these pilgrimages, teach you when to move, when to be still, when to ask for help, and when to be grateful, and then the tone of your life will be in rhythm with the opus the gods have ordained for you.