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“As a strong rock shouldn’t be shaken by the wind, the smart are usually not shaken by reward or blame.” ~The Dhammapada, Verse 81
Some moments raise you want moonlight. Others break you want a wave. I’ve lived by means of each—and I’ve come to consider that the way in which we transfer by means of these emotional thresholds defines who we turn into.
By thresholds, I imply the turning factors in our lives—experiences so vivid, painful, or awe-filled that they pull us out of our regular routines and produce us head to head with one thing actual. Some are available silence, others with sound and lightweight, however all of them go away a mark. They usually ask one thing of us.
The Evening the Frogs Have been Singing
Years in the past, I used to be in San Ignacio, Baja California Sur—a small city nestled in the midst of an unlimited, harsh desert. However this desert hid a secret: a spring-fed river winding quietly by means of thick reeds and groves of towering palms.
One night time, I walked alone alongside the water. The total moon lit all the pieces in silver. The city was asleep, however the frogs had been unsleeping—1000’s of them—and their voices crammed the night time.
It appeared like one million. A robust, unstoppable refrain rising into the sky, as in the event that they had been singing to the gods in heaven.
Bugs danced within the air like sparks. The river shimmered. I stood within the stillness, listening.
After which, one thing in me lifted.
My breath slowed. My ideas stopped. I felt unbound—current, gentle, fully contained in the second.
I felt like I might fly.
Not in fantasy—however in my physique. As if for one uncommon instantaneous, the load of all the pieces had fallen away. I wasn’t watching the world. I used to be a part of it. Related to the frogs, the moonlight, the heartbeat of life itself.
That was a threshold I crossed with out figuring out. Not a dramatic one, however sacred. A second of wholeness so full it continues to echo, years later.
Not All Thresholds Are Joyful
That night time by the river was one fringe of the spectrum. The opposite is one thing far tougher.
I just lately examine a mom who misplaced her total household within the span of a 12 months. Her husband died unexpectedly. Then her son, in a automobile crash. Then, her solely surviving daughter was swept away within the Texas floods.
From a full house to insufferable silence—in simply twelve months.
I can’t think about the depth of that grief. However I acknowledge it as a threshold too—a degree from which there isn’t a going again. Loss like that doesn’t simply wound—it transforms. It alters the form of time and id. It calls for a brand new way of life.
And it jogs my memory: thresholds aren’t all the time moments we select. Generally, they select us.
The Man in Ermita
I additionally consider a person I used to see every single day on a busy avenue nook in Ermita, Metro Manila. The intersection was chaotic—taxis, distributors, honking horns, youngsters weaving by means of visitors. And there, beside the 7-Eleven, was a person rolling backwards and forwards on a small wood board with wheels.
He had no legs. His arms had been quick and deformed. That wood platform was his solely house, his solely transportation, his solely fixed.
He didn’t shout or beg loudly. He simply moved. Quietly. Current. Enduring.
And I usually questioned: What are thresholds for him? What brings him pleasure? What ache does he carry that none of us see?
His life taught me one thing. That some thresholds are lived each single day—with out drama, with out noise. Some are carved into the physique. Into the road. Into the act of constant on, regardless of who notices.
We every reside on our personal spectrum of expertise. And his presence helped me acknowledge that my very own joys and struggles don’t exist in isolation—they reside alongside numerous others, equally deep, equally human.
The Emotional Spectrum We All Transfer By
These three tales—the night time of the frogs, the mom’s loss, the person in Ermita—might sound unrelated. However they’re not.
They’re all thresholds.
One is a threshold of awe.
One is a threshold of grief.
One is a threshold of silent resilience.
They symbolize completely different factors on the identical emotional spectrum. And the deeper I mirror, the extra I perceive that we’re all transferring alongside that spectrum—backwards and forwards, repeatedly.
What Steadiness Actually Means
We’re usually instructed to hunt steadiness. However I don’t assume steadiness means calm neutrality, or avoiding emotional extremes.
To me, steadiness is the power to remain grounded whereas being stretched. To recollect pleasure even in sorrow. To carry stillness even when life is loud. To really feel all the pieces—and never shut down.
Knowledge isn’t the absence of depth. It’s the willingness to stick with no matter life brings—and maintain strolling.
Writing has been my manner of staying grounded.
Remedy helped me discover the phrases. However writing gave me a spot to reside them. It helps me keep in mind what I’ve felt—and perceive what it meant. It’s how I make peace with the previous. It’s how I attain ahead towards one thing entire.
After I write, I return to that night time in San Ignacio. I additionally return to the person in Ermita, and to the numerous thresholds I’ve handed by means of quietly—some with pleasure, some with ache.
Writing helps me stick with what’s actual, even when it’s exhausting. Particularly when it’s exhausting.
An Invitation to You
Perhaps you’ve had your individual model of that river night time—an sudden second of magnificence or readability. Or possibly you’re sitting with a threshold you didn’t select—grief, concern, change, uncertainty. Perhaps you’re surviving silently, like the person on the wood board.
Wherever you might be on the spectrum, I need to say this: The thresholds we cross by means of don’t make us weaker. They form us. They wake us up. They train us presence—not perfection—if we select to stick with our expertise, even when it hurts.
If you happen to’re writing, reflecting, or just respiration by means of all of it—you’re already on the trail.
And that path will sooner or later lead you to a different threshold someplace else on the spectrum. So keep open to every transformative second, and allow them to form you into somebody extra alive, extra resilient, and extra balanced.
About Tony CollinsTony Collins is a documentary filmmaker, educator, and author whose work explores creativity, caregiving, and private progress. He’s the writer of: Home windows to the Sea—a transferring assortment of essays on love, loss, and presence. Inventive Scholarship—a information for educators and artists rethinking how artistic work is valued. Tony writes to mirror on what issues—and to assist others really feel much less alone.
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