When Thresholds Open Twice
Eclipse Season, New Beginnings, and Making Space for Magic
Hello loves,
Thresholds don’t always open on schedule. Sometimes they slip by quietly. Sometimes they swing wide when you least expect it. And sometimes they ask you to pause, to skip a beat, to wait until the timing clicks into place.
That’s how this week has felt for me. I missed my Wednesday post — which, in true threshold fashion, has turned into an invitation to write something fuller, deeper, more spacious. And how perfect, really, as we enter eclipse season and approach Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year — a moment of both cosmic and cultural new beginnings.
The Collective Threshold: Eclipse + New Year
Tomorrow’s eclipse is a portal. Eclipses are threshold keepers — they don’t just close doors, they rearrange the hallway. Shadows fall, light returns, and in the in-between we see what usually hides. It can feel wobbly, uncertain, even disorienting… but also wildly clarifying.
And then, layered right on top of this, comes Rosh Hashanah. The sound of the shofar announces renewal, repentance, and return. You don’t have to observe the holiday to feel the resonance: it’s a reset, a new chapter, a time when the air hums with possibility.
Taken together, the eclipse and the new year whisper: this is a moment to begin again. To step through whatever doorway stands before you — even if you thought you missed the chance.
A Personal Threshold: My Lair
This week I’ve been tending a different kind of threshold — the threshold of space. My office and library are becoming a sanctuary, my “lair.”
A new couch arrived (thank you, Anabei!). It’s cozy, soft, and perfect!
I hung up the artwork on the walls that were in my other room — moving ocean imagery out of the bathroom and replacing it with something more magical, because this space now holds a different energy. It feels like claiming a new part of myself, one that’s been waiting for permission.
And I’ve been dusting off my art journaling practice, pulling out supplies, opening pages that have been blank for too long. These little acts — moving pictures, arranging shelves, choosing colors — they are thresholds, too. Small doorways into bigger ways of being.
🌑✨ Eclipse Threshold Collective Reading ✨🌑
I originally had intended to read these cards using the spread I shared this past Wednesday, but I saw another story unfolding. The cards tell a story of what it feels like to stand at the edge of change.
We begin with a spark in our hands (Ace of Fire) — the glimmer of a new passion, the seed of possibility that says: you already hold what you need. That spark is restless, urging us forward, and the Knight of Fire comes rushing in with momentum. There’s a sense that it’s time to move, to act, even if our hearts are still catching up.
Then comes the doorway itself (8 of Water). Here we see the threshold made clear: walking away from what no longer fulfills us, even if it once did. This is the eclipse medicine — a call to leave behind what drains us, and to choose instead what feeds the soul.
On the other side of that door waits the 2 of Fire, the reminder that expansion doesn’t happen in isolation. When we step through, support and partnership are waiting. We are not meant to carry these dreams alone.
And as we emerge, the Page of Air greets us with clarity — sharp insight, truth that can cut through illusion. Crossing the threshold changes not just where we stand, but how we see.
Finally, Demeter arrives as our guiding mother. She reminds us that hope endures even in the season of descent. The seeds of spring are always held in the darkness of winter. What feels like loss is also the promise of return.
This spread feels like the story of eclipse season itself: a spark, a push, a letting go, a crossing, a new alliance, and the gift of clear vision. Held together by Demeter’s hope.
Reflection: What are you ready to walk away from? What door is asking for your yes?
✨ Additional Reflections: My Own Threshold Moment
Thresholds aren’t just abstract ideas — they show up in our daily lives. For me, this spread mirrored my own crossroads.
For the last few years I’ve worked in the nonprofit world, pouring myself into causes I care deeply about. And while part of me will always carry that heart for service, I’ve come to realize that chapter of my life is closing. Over the last nine months I’ve been exploring instructional design — a field that allows me to use my creativity, my love of teaching, and my skills in new ways. This is the door I’ve decided to step through.
That decision has also brought clarity around my spiritual work here. I’ve realized I don’t want to build a full-time (or even part-time) business out of it. I want to keep writing, sharing, guiding, and creating spaces for healing — but without the pressure of always producing extra “paid tier” content or courses and workshops every single month. I want to be able to enjoy my time off and time when I’m not working.
So, starting in January 2026, everything I create here will flow to everyone. If readers want to support my writing, the workbooks, and meditations (when I do have the time to add those in), the option will still be there at $5/month or $60/year. But my focus will be on offering from joy, not obligation. And the extra content will be as I’m able to create it.
Earlier this year I wrote about wanting more ease and flow in my life, and this is one way that I can do that for myself.
This is my threshold: releasing the “shoulds,” releasing the old containers, and choosing what feels aligned now. And giving myself permission to move forward in this way.
✨ An Invitation: Finding Joy
That brings me to what I feel called to offer right now. My Finding Joy course begins September 27th — and it feels like a love letter for this moment in time. We all need joy, light, and small anchors of meaning when the world feels uncertain.
This time, I’m offering it as a pay-what-you-can. The full value is $297, but if that feels out of reach, you’re still welcome. Pay what works for you, and come as you are.
We’ll spend five weeks together exploring different aspects of joy, weaving practices and reflections that help us root into the little things that matter most — the things that carry us through thresholds, uncertainty, and change.
Because joy isn’t frivolous. Joy is fuel. It’s what keeps our lights steady so we can be a beacon for ourselves, our families, and our communities.
I didn’t update the page header image, but your first week will be released on Saturday, September 27 (at some point, that’s my parents’ anniversary and now it seems there may be some last minute festivities). If you would like to join in at a PWYC rate (you tell me what feels spacious for you), then please respond to this email with the rate you’re offering. I will create a special payment link for you.
Closing Reflections
Thresholds don’t always look like big dramatic gestures. Sometimes they’re as simple as saying yes to a new couch, picking up an old journal, or deciding to move a piece of art to make room for magic.
As we step into this eclipse and this new year, I invite you to pause and ask:
✨ What small shift is helping you feel more rooted in this threshold season?
Drop me a note — I love hearing how you’re crossing your own doorways.
With love,
Esmeralda Luna 🌙
P.S. Save the date for the next virtual Moonlit Sanctuary Circle! Wednesday, October 8. In this circle, we will gather in sacred sisterhood to honor our ancestors, especially the women of our line. Together we will:
🌹 Create a virtual altar to welcome our ancestors’ presence
🌹 Journey through a guided womb-centered meditation to connect with our lineage
🌹 Share stories, reflections, and ancestral wisdom in community
🌹 Offer gratitude through a simple creative ritual you can do from home
I hope to see you there!