The Doorstep Reset

Crossing Thresholds (Experiment #7)

This month’s experiment is all about doors. Or rather, thresholds, and how we choose to cross them.

When I was little, I wished that my house had a dutch door.

It seemed so fun to be able to lean your body out and be half outside and half inside! Cheerful friendliness up top, cozy safety on the bottom.

These days, it seems as if every door in my life is a dutch door. I seem to be forever half out and half in. So rarely all the way in any one place.

I’m taking my kid to school while simultaneously thinking about the emails I have to send when I get home. I’m sitting at my dining room table, ostensibly writing, while my brain keeps clambering away to my grocery list, the clutter building up in the corner, the packing I have to do in two days.

I got to thinking about doors on writing retreat in Taos. My adorable two-bedroom cottage had two turquoise doors, one for each bedroom.

My door, while lovely, was incredibly clacky. Each time I entered or exited, the small roller shade designed to cover the door’s small windows would bang loudly against the panes, and the wooden “Please do not disturb” sign hanging from the doorknob would clatter against the door’s bottom panels, reverberating loudly throughout the whole cottage.

As I was sharing the cottage with a roommate, I wanted to be sensitive to noise. Plus, I wasn’t interested in tripping down the five inch drop that stepped down from the door frame.

So I began a practice of pausing just before crossing the threshold. Slowing myself down before passing through, mindfully inserting my key instead of jamming it in without thought, pushing or pulling with just enough force that the shade and the wooden sign moved as one with the door. No clacks required.

As this became my routine each day, I noticed how calming it was to engage in these brief moments of presence, how pausing seemed to connect me more firmly to my inner landscape, and to bring just a bit more intention to whatever I was stepping into next.

I’ve been home from Taos for 10 days now. Retreat mode feels like a distant memory and I’m back to swinging hard, letting doors slam behind me.

But what if I wasn’t?

I cross the threshold of our home four to six times a day. Usually with arms laden down with stuff—bags and coats, water bottles and coffee cups, two or three Amazon packages I picked up off the porch. 

When I’m coming through this threshold, I am thinking about the things I’m carrying and how to get them set down. I am thinking about my irritation at the mess that greets me when I open the door, about how I should probably do something about it right this minute.

I am not thinking about my “inner landscape.” Nor love. Nor delight. And I’ll confess I’m rarely cultivating receptivity to the creative whispers that might be waiting for me just around the corner.

Turns out, my general focus when coming through my front door has been on what I “need to do” next, without considering who I want to be or how I want to feel next.

So, I’m embarking this month on an experiment that will turn my front door into a kind of “reset” button.

Before crossing the threshold, I will pause for a micro-second before depressing the handle to ask:

• What shall I leave behind as I cross this threshold? What do I want to release right now?

• What do I want to step into now? What is this moment calling for? What do I want right now?

The fun thing about this experiment is that I have no idea what I’ll discover as I try it! What emotions or states of mind will I find myself most often needing to release? What will I find myself intentionally stepping into?

I may even hang something clacky on the doorknob to remind me:
Out or in, make your choice. Arrive. Here. Now.

More Experimenteers Needed!

Do you want to try the threshold experiment? Perhaps there’s a door in your life that merits particular mindfulness. The door to and from your office? The door to your car? The door that opens into the space of someone you care for?

Pick a door, then think of your ritual. You don’t have to use my questions. Maybe you’re more of a fill-in-the-blanks person:

• Leaving behind…

• Stepping into…

Let’s find out what happens when we cross thresholds with less hurry-up! and a smidge more slowing down.