WE ALL KNOW
what a threshold is. It’s the point of commitment, no? As in standing at the entrance to the Minotaur’s maze reading the sign “Beyond here be Monsters” and feeling the encouraging hand of the missus shoving you forward.
Often at the threshold (any threshold, dammit) you find yourself really (really-really-really) wishing that you’d stayed in bed this morning. Been there, done that.
Sometimes thresholds can be fun. Most often they add an element of … interest … and a certain piquancy to life. Brrrr.
THRESHOLDS CAN BE
thought provoking for the non-insouciant. Like this wee shot of a symbol of eternal friendship and devotion between a New Zealand city and a ‘twinned’ Japanese city; gifts exchanged, documents signed, saki and beers ceremoniously sipped and a lovely Zen(ish) garden installed free of charge ‘cos we’re all good pals and lovey-dovey; pictured herewith—
What provokes my cynicism this time is those poppies. They both trigger the words “In Flanders fields the poppies blow …” etc etc and remind me that (a) we are coming up to the one hundredth anniversary of the First World War, and (b) not so very long ago Japanese folks of any standing were fair game for any sportsman with a gun.
SO WE MOVE ON
To our Beloved Spouse taken a few years ago—heck, you can even see the ‘threshold trepidation’ involved … here often enough in summer we noticed the wee creek, yes … but now it’s winter does anyone remember how deep it is, how wide it is, or even where it begins and ends?
Plunging (eeek) on—
—thresholds can be for coming in as well as for going out (or vice versa) and the little guy above has throttled back, fully extended his flaps and is flapping like fury. He is on the threshold of a landing and I can hear his little mind ticking over right now—
“right wing down a bit
tilt undercarriage up a bit more
… … any landing I can walk away from is a good one.”
—and feel the need to remind him that he ain’t gonna walk away from it, not this time. (To not digress, I’ve seen footage of gooney birds landing in Guam. In the movie “The Rescuers” they got it exactly right (bounce bounce bounce scrunch clatter slide slither squawk). And not for nothing is the end of a runway called The Threshold.)
NOW TO SPARE YOU
further homilies, at this very moment I’m right on the threshold of dinner: I can smell the chicken and have just been ping-ponged. Don’t wait up …