Crossing the threshold often entails pain and embarrassment.
I can’t get my brain or my body to do what is required; the key won’t fit the lock.
The threshold is anything hard and worthwhile—raising a family, starting a business, creating a work of art, listening.
But then, pushing on a seemingly inert door, the key suddenly turns the bolt, the handle pivots and the door swings wide.
At that point, an entirely new vista opens up, grander than I (we?) imagined, and then another door.
Now I know why I love windows so much. No one sees you when you enter through those.