A Threshold practice for September: Small rituals for life’s transitions

by Sheri McGregor, M.A.

September, with its changing light and cooler air, marks a shift between physical seasons as well as a change of rhythm or pace for life. It’s a threshold, a crossing that shifts us from one season, into another. I see it in the shorter days, the falling acorns, and the spider webs that settle like snow frost on our cypress trees. The typically solitary bucks with their impressive antlers arrive in our neighborhood to join the ever present does. And I lean in, the once too-hot-to-move afternoons now providing softer air and a rosy, coming-autumn glow that invite long walks.

In his book, To Bless the Space Between Us (2008), John O’Donohue describes a threshold as a “frontier.” The word makes each of us a pioneer. I love that idea!

As you enter new territory, make the moment intentional.  Consider these questions:

• What daily rhythms shift for you at this time of year?
• What might these shifts open to you that didn’t feel possible before?

Threshold practices through time

Across time and culture, physical thresholds have been treated as sacred. The medieval practice of chalking the door with simple symbols above a home’s entrance asked for blessing on the house and all who entered. Such rituals turned an ordinary doorway into a place of awareness and reflection.

In his classic work, The Rites of Passage, anthropologist Arnold van Gennep describes thresholds as the transitional spaces where old roles are left behind and new ones are not yet fully embraced. If you’re an estranged parent or are in some other way moving into new life territory, regarding September as a threshold fits.

Creating your own threshold practice

Before stepping into the busier end of the year, what if you created a small ritual to acknowledge the shift? You might stand at your doorway and name one thing you’re ready to release. Or write down a word that sets a tone of hope or freedom. You don’t need an elaborate ceremony. A simple practice can help you honor and make the most of the shift. Perhaps a moment of stillness or prayer, a candle lit at dusk, or a line in your journal that remarks upon the change and what you intend to create or honor in the time ahead. Coin a phrase that leads you into your next life season. Be specific or use something broad that encompasses a spirit or tone you’d like to embody. Here are a few examples that use the emotional distancing language of “you” that’s discussed in my newest book, Rumination Remedies:

• You’re really getting somewhere now.
• You’ll gain new knowledge as you go—and transfer that learning to new situations.
• You’re on your way.
• Stepping forward in joy for the next unfolding.
• Patiently awaiting a treasure each step will bring.

Or borrow the line of a favorite poem or use a movie character’s quote. Here are some examples:

• I dwell in Possibility (Emily Dickinson, poem, in The Poems of Emily Dickenson)
• All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. (Gandalf, in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring)
• Carpe diem. Seize the day. (John Keating in Dead Poets Society)
• You’ve always had the power, my dear. You just had to learn it for yourself. (Glinda in The Wizard of Oz).

In a simple act or a line that you speak, you keep the doorway clear, reminding yourself that thresholds can close off what’s behind and invite you to what’s ahead.

You cross thresholds every day. The trick is to take notice, be intentional, even make them sacred. Whether you step out of bed, leave the house, start a meal, or close your eyes at night, you’re crossing thresholds. Just as September serves as a threshold for the season ahead, each of these routine crossings offers a chance to notice: Where have I been? Where am I going? What will I bring along with me?

A Threshold practice: Won’t you join me?

A simple “threshold practice” can be powerful. I invite you to choose one, start soon, and practice for at least seven days. Each day, pause at one ordinary threshold moment. Consider moments like these:

• Waking in the morning.
• Opening a door to go outside.
• Sitting down with your tea or coffee.
• Turning out the light at night.

In that pause, ask yourself: What am I leaving behind? What am I stepping toward now? Let the answer be simple, practical, or profound. Make it about the seasonal change or be in the moment. Whatever rises then and there is fine. No censoring. This is your threshold, a time to pause, reflect, and learn more about yourself.

My cup of tea: A threshold practice

Moments from ordinary life that we ritualize can be meaningful, helping to turn off an overactive mind and shift gears. For me, one daily threshold practice is a cup of tea. Each evening, I pull out a special mug for a blend of chamomile and another calming tea. As discussed in Rumination Remedies, the ritual marks my symbolic crossing—from a busy day filled with the stories and energy of others into a quieter, more restful evening. Those moments with my tea are a threshold practice.

September’s shifting light and cooler evenings invite us all to notice the thresholds in our own lives. Whether you mark them with a candle, calming intentional breaths at the doorway, a cup of tea in a favorite mug, or in some way unique to you, a threshold practice can help keep the path ahead clear, not overgrown with fear or resignation, but open to possibility. As September unfolds, may your thresholds be more than passings — may they be openings to possibilities and steps toward a beautiful life ahead.