Threshold vs Milestone

We all have milestones in life. First job. First kiss. First heartbreak. First promotion. 16. 21. 40. 50. 80. 100. Milestones we graduate into naturally without having to do anything at all. And milestones we stretch the very fiber of our being to acquire.

Then, there are thresholds. These are doorways we walk through, and they often require intention. They pop up regardless of age, status or preparation. Starting a new job. Beginning life in a new city. Dating again after divorce. Discovering a passion for a new hobby. Typically, thresholds mean there is a defining "before" and "after" that is both deeply felt and identifiable.

Sometimes your threshold aligns with your milestone — that happened to me this year turning 40. The milestone was turning 40, but that could have come and gone with barely more fanfare than a party. However, because I am also aware that I am positioning myself to adopt in the future and planning a move abroad, this milestone happened to coincide with a threshold moment.

For Tricia, 47 was a threshold that deserves her own words to be told.

“I’ve known Meagan O for more than ten years, which may be part of the reason she knew exactly what I wanted to remember about this season of my life.
Her work has evolved into what she calls soul portraiture—not simply photographing what a woman looks like, but capturing something about who she is right now.
And right now feels worth remembering.

And right now feels worth remembering. At 47, I don't feel like I'm starting over. I feel collected. A little more discerning. A little less interested in proving. More willing to trust myself. Proud of what I've built, grateful for the people who have been part of it, and still incredibly curious about what comes next.

The outward signs of change are easy to see. A new chapter in my career with Sotheby's International Realty. A new home at Brookside that somehow feels like it matches the season I'm in and the woman I am growing into. Effortlessly elegant but comfortable at the same time.

Four children building lives of their own and only one still at home. And I didn't want this moment to only be about me. Some of the women who have mattered most in my life are woven into this video too. Women who have known different versions of me. Women who have celebrated with me, carried things with me, challenged me, loved me and helped shape the woman standing here now.

There was something incredibly special about sharing this experience with them.

Because maybe a soul portrait isn't only a portrait of you. Maybe it's also a portrait of the people you've collected along the way.

But the bigger transition is happening somewhere inside all of that.

There's a moment in the video where I'm walking through Brookside with sage, followed by palo santo. It's a small ritual I perform from time to time when I feel the need to clear what I don't want to carry forward, and then welcome in the good I want to fill it with.

Looking at it now, it feels like a pretty good metaphor for this entire season of my life. I'm keeping what feels true. Releasing some things that no longer fit. Changing my mind about others. And giving myself permission to want something different from the next chapter than I wanted from the last one.

Maybe midlife isn't a crisis at all.

Maybe it's the privilege of finally having enough life behind you to choose what comes next with intention. That's why "Butterfly Season" felt like the only song for this.

Meagan didn't photograph who I used to be or ask me to perform who I'm becoming.

She captured me here. In the middle. Proud of the woman who got me here. Grateful for the women who helped me become her. Excited about the woman I'm still becoming.

Proud.

Still becoming.

And very much in my butterfly season.”

You can see Tricia’s video here.