Closed doors, doorways, and gateways, intrigued by the silent question of what lies beyond the threshold. There is the fear of the the unknown, a shadow cast by the unseen, yet also a spark of excitement in stepping from one realm to another, unsure whether the path leads upward or downward. Every moment of each day is a threshold, a fragile boundary between the known and the uncharted future. ​ Anticipation, from past experiences and familiar routines, softens this dread but dims the radiance of what might await us and does not allow us to fully experience the potentiality of what lies beyond. By anchoring ourselves in the known, we skirt the shadows within us — the repressed fears, desires, and instincts that lurk in the depths of our psyche. ​ And what of those who have crossed before us, standing on the far side of the threshold? Do they welcome us forward or bar the way? Are they hoarding a hidden treasure, like the dragon Smaug guarding his gold in Tolkien’s tales? Are they warning us of terrors ahead, as Sibyl cautioned Aeneas before his descent into the underworld?  ​ Gatekeepers haunt these liminal spaces. Without crossing, they know the secrets beyond, protecting either the mysteries of the other side or those of us who dare to approach. ​ These physical thresholds echo metaphysical truths rooted in the collective unconscious, the vast reservoir of humanity’s shared archetypes and experiences. The line between now and the future, the Stranger against the Native, the Individual versus the Collective, Us and Them — these are primordial divides, etched into myths like the Greek Titans warring against the Olympians or the biblical exile from Eden. Such conflicts, ancient as mankind, pulse through our stories and psyches, unresolved yet ever-present. Time does not pass; we do. Moment by moment, we journey toward the ultimate threshold, death. The thought of no longer being here is unthinkable, yet millions cross that boundary daily. Death, the final gateway, is a compelling reason to meditate on thresholds.