1. the plank, stone, or piece of timber that lies under a door
2. the place or point of entering or beginning
3. (a) the point at which a physiological or psychological effect begins to be produced; (b) a level, point, or value above which something is true or will take place and below which it is not or will not
Merriam-Webster
Beginning is hard. Being new at something is humbling. Sitting with the unknown rather than trying to control outcomes–just feeling, experiencing each step as it comes–takes an immense amount of courage, patience, and self-compassion.
Beginnings remind me of the symbolism connected with “thresholds.” Saying the word “threshold” sounds deeper, more meaningful than simply saying “door.” The idea of a threshold seems to express an invitation for the one standing to either continue standing or take a step forward–crossing a barrier between what was and what will be–into the unknown.
There’s one scene from the Disney movie, Moana, that reminds me of this term, threshold. It’s not the most obvious scene. If you’ve seen the movie, you know Moana leaves her home in search of Maui, “demi-god of the wind and sea,” to save her people and island. The threshold for me (as the viewer) wasn’t when she found the boats with her grandma. It wasn’t when she confronted her father with the “heart of te fiti.” It wasn’t when she said goodbye to her grandmother. It wasn’t when she successfully launched her boat over the barrier reef waves. The quiet moment that sticks out to me as “threshold” energy was later on after she found Maui on his small island.
The progression goes: Maui tricked Moana and trapped her in a cave. Moana engineered a plan and successfully escaped the cave through an opening in the ceiling. She ran to the end of the rocky ridge and launched herself toward her boat as Maui was making his get-away. It all seemed quite impressive–Moana was overcoming it all… until the jump from the cave ridge.
She landed (face-planted, I believe) in the ocean and completely missed her target–just feet from Maui bobbing peacefully in her boat. She gasped for air, treading water, as Maui responded with, “I could watch that all day.” As he pulls the rigging and the boat speeds away… this is where I find the threshold.
Up until this point, Moana was pushing herself; challenging herself, her beliefs, her fears and limitations… but she succeeded each time. She knew her strengths and she used them to overcome each obstacle successfully. This scene has “threshold” woven into its pixels. She had gone so far; she worked so hard; she expended so much energy. Then… she failed. She literally and figuratively face-planted. What does she do?
She looks back to the island (safety). She looks ahead to the moving boat and endless sea (uncertainty).
And she swims.
Threshold.
It was a moment of exhaustion. Her own capabilities couldn’t guarantee anything on the other side of this step. Her strength couldn’t ensure safety. Her intelligence couldn’t promise capturing the boat. Her determination couldn’t ensure she would land safely on its planks before losing energy. And yet, she chose to take a step forward through the threshold toward uncertainty.
Life (ocean) met her there.
When we’re faced with our own “threshold” moments we sometimes find ourselves looking back to “safety” (resisting change, looking to familiar rather than aligned or values-driven movement, and so on). But if we decide to take a step; make friends with uncertainty; observe how life greets us when we move with intention… we might find we soften our grip and surrender to the moment rather than trying to control the outcome.
The threshold of growing a family, loss, becoming a parent again, who I was before children and how I carry her (or him) into the new now…
Moana’s story and threshold experience might mirror the hopeful leap of choosing to grow a family. It could feel familiar to someone finding out they’re pregnant without choosing pregnancy. It could land with a couple learning another attempt to become pregnant feels like a “face-plant” moment wrapped in sadness, grief, and longing for something that feels out of reach. It’s the mother rocking her newborn infant at 2 am (and 3 am… and 4:30 am… and 6 am) wondering “why didn’t I know it would be this hard?” It’s the father rushing to work after only seven days at home with his partner and newborn baby. He’s trying to log into Teams or answer emails; but when he signs off with his name, he isn’t so sure who he is in that moment.
The wave in this case plays an important role in our own threshold stories.
Moana had experience with being supported and trusting that support (system) before she accepted the invitation of her threshold step. Her grandmother nurtured her. The ocean met her when she was a wobbling toddler. Her family was starting to see her for who she was becoming. Her mother packed her food for her journey–such caregiving. Her grandmother blessed her and told her as such–she would never be alone. It’s the “wave” we need to ride in our own threshold stories, too.
The wave can look different for each of us but, at its core, it shows up as support, caring gestures, trust, and a safe place to lean into when the step through the threshold feels like its asking too much of us in that moment. Whether it’s nausea in first trimester; the days to years postpartum; the grief that feels near impossible to carry after loss, you can lean on the understanding: “you aren’t alone…” (PSI).
If you are standing at a threshold and wondering whether you can keep going, remember: you don’t have to do it alone. If you’re in the tender life experiences of pregnancy, postpartum, infertility, nursing, or loss; Postpartum Support International offers online support groups, connection with local professionals, resources, and much more. You can find them here: https://postpartum.net/ or check out our resources tab above.
Moana didn’t know what would happen when she lifted her arm to start swimming forward. We don’t have to know what will happen when we take a step through the thresholds facing us throughout life. How we move through can matter as much as the step, itself. Know you don’t have to move alone. You’re capable. You don’t have to have the answers for tomorrow to know who you are and where you’re standing today.
And the irony here is… I’m struggling to click “publish” as I wrap up this post. Thresholds continue to come with uncertainty—even the smaller ones.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Pick up my right foot.
Publish.
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