Stage Five: Crossing the First Threshold

Life Lessons in Yosemite

A couple summers ago, my husband, sister, brother-in-law, and I went backpacking in Yosemite, California. I’d backpacked there for 4 days in previous years, so I thought I knew what to expect. I mean, how much harder is it to hike for 8 days instead of 4? Mathematically, the answer is 2 times harder. Realistically, the answer is 3,200 times harder. Math did not prepare me for this. Let me tell you, if I’d known how hard this adventure would be, it would have required a lot more convincing for me to step outside backpacker’s camp the first day. But as it was, I took my first step with blissful ignorance.

The scenery was absolutely to die for, and there were times we nearly did just that. We fought off hordes of mosquitoes the size of pterodactyls, we ate freeze-dried beans for every meal, we scrabbled up mountain trails with a 90° incline, and we did all this while wearing packs that were four times our body weight. But the scenery was terrific.

The last hike was the most brutal. We had saved the most challenging hike for last, so we were already exhausted. Since there was no flowing water on that trail, we also had to carry an extra gallon of water all day. (Did you know that a gallon of water weighs 8 pounds? Did you know that 8 pounds feels like 100 when you’re climbing up a mountain?) I also thought we were low on food, so I didn’t eat much as we toiled upward. Needless to say, I was not feeling like a mighty mountain man by the end of that hike. In fact, I was the last one to reach the top, and I probably looked less like a hiker taking a final step and more like a puddle of primordial ooze seeping my way over the stone ledge.

But we’d made it. And it was worth it.

Crossing the First Threshold

I’m sure you’re wondering why on earth I’m writing about the end of an adventure when this article is supposed to be about the beginning. Let me tell you why. In a sense, the last leg of the journey wasn’t difficult. It was exhausting, of course, but it wasn’t difficult. See, when we took our first step out of backpacker’s camp the first morning, we’d already determined to make it to the top of Cloud’s Rest and back again. We would get to the summit no matter how long it took us. And trust me, it took us a long time. But there was nothing complicated about it because we’d already made that decision when we crossed the first threshold.

In an adventure, as well as in life, the first step is often the hardest to take. Sure, you may be exhausted by the end, making progress just inches at a time. But in a sense, that is still easier than taking the first step, because the first step is the commitment. The next steps of the adventure begin to fall like dominoes, but only after you’ve managed to cross the first threshold.

“Crossing the First Threshold is an act of the will in which the hero commits wholeheartedly to the adventure,” says Christopher Vogler (127). That act of the will must be prompted by something, whether an external event, an internal one, or a combination of the two. Remember when we discussed the hero’s refusal of the call to adventure? Well, something needs to change his or her mind. Sometimes merely meeting with the mentor provides the motivation. Sometimes a circumstance changes or a problem intensifies. It’s even possible that the hero doesn’t choose to cross the threshold but is forced across anyway. In Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Alice doesn’t exactly choose to fall down the rabbit hole; she slips in by accident. But whether by the design of the hero or of some higher power in the story, the hero must cross the first threshold in order to begin the adventure.

Example from The Hobbit

The same is true for Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit. Upon hearing the dangerous proposition of the adventure, Bilbo has fainted. After he recovers in another room, he creeps back to where the dwarves are talking in the parlour and finds that they are talking about him. Gloin says, “’…As soon as I clapped eyes on the little fellow bobbing and puffing on the mat, I had my doubts. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar!’

“Then Mr Baggins turned the [door] handle and went in. The Took side had won. He suddenly felt he would go without bed and breakfast to be thought fierce. As for little fellow bobbing on the mat it almost made him really fierce. Many a time afterwards the Baggins part regretted what he did now….” (18). He signed himself right up for the adventure. By turning the handle on that parlour door, he crossed his first inner threshold.

Of course, he stalled out once more before actually setting off, but you can read all about that interaction in last week’s post about meeting with the Mentor. When all was said and done, Bilbo rushed from his cozy hobbit hole and into a grand and unknown adventure, crossing the first threshold with—well, if not with confidence, at least with gumption. Little does he know what’s in store for him next.

Today’s Question: In your own life, can you think of a time that you crossed an important threshold? What consequences did it have later on?

Sources
Vogler, Christopher. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers, Second Edition. Studio City: Michael Wiese Productions, 1998.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. New York: Ballantine Books, 1937.