Doorways

There are lots of different kinds of doorways and windows in life. Literal ones that go from inside to outside or from one room to another, figurative ones that represent transitions of time like the doorway from night into day or morning into afternoon. Doorways of consciousness that go from darkness to enlightenment...

There are also doorways where one can change their state of being from material to ethereal, bodily to ghostly, living to dead.

In spirituality, these doors and windows of consciousness or dimension are called "tween times"and represent a form of transition or metamorphosis. In paganism, these times shudder places are often represented by crossroads.

In popular television, Crossroads are haunted by apparitions called, "cross roads demons" who's sole purpose is to catch someone at the exact moment of decision and change the desicion in the favor of themselves, usually by promising a boon in exchange for the traveler's soul. It is purported that famed blues guitarist Robert Johnson sold his soul in such a deal to gain fame and fortune. Would he have gained said fame without the crossroads devil and kept his soul? Highly probable.

In the craft, depending on their pantheon, there are several deities that deal with such things. Janus is in charge of helping make tough choices when multiple options are available. Hecate, who watches over crossroads, and conceivably their crossroads contracts, especially ones that may end up in the underworld, is also in charge of the doorways that manifest as the forks in life's roads.

There are gatekeepers assigned to the more spiritual  portals in life, as well. Morpheus guards the gate between awake and sleeping and, his melancholy brother Orpheus, guards the gate between sleep and death. Ere how else would we ever find our way in dreamland.

The new house is filled with doors. A perfect, matte, cream, snail spiral of halls with doors that curl inexorably onward forward to the center, or the heart of the house, the kitchen.

When we moved in I smudged the whole house to remove negative energy. Then, I sealed all doors and windows to the outside world (portals to some outer world). Then I sealed off all mirrors (windows to some other probable inside world). The I burned sweet grass braids to reinvite the positive energy. I slammed an invisible glass globe over top of our home, built invisible brick walks, and strapped a gigantic, indigo hued robe over it all.

Last night we slept peacefully and soundly. Even the TMJ I suffered from chronically  loosened up.

Tonight, I lie awake waiting for Morpheus to fold me in his soft caress and, in my mind's eye, I walked through a doorway the color of blue skies and white cotton candy clouds and I hear a voice. My voice.

"I Think My Father Just Passed Away."

Death doesn't affect me the way it used to, before my chronic illness, before Orpheus' sweet strains lured my mother to her own reward, but they do affect me.

I will stop by his house tomorrow and check to ensure he's ok. I'll inquire about his health. Tonight I am convinced he's following Orpheus down that dry stretch of terrain to the underworld and yet I do not grieve for he lived his life to a beat that would put even the muses to shame.

His life is complete and he's ready to transform to the next stage or hang about in this one a little longer.

His choice.