One must cross a thousand thresholds to reach the heart of the temple.
On a pilgrimage to Buddhist temples in China with my son and his wife, I discovered that thresholds were not just wood or stone, but sacred boundaries of spiritual realities. Some were so high I needed help to cross. The climb up steep stone steps through clouds and wind was itself a threshold, as was stepping into mist where Bodhisattva statues emerged like dream figures. Each moment carried me further from the familiar and deeper into transformation. Life, too, is made of thresholds—hidden passages that invite us to leave behind what we think we know and step into the magic beyond.
