The Teacher as Threshold: Lessons from Charles Burack

There are moments in life when we meet someone who is not just a person but a doorway. They don’t simply teach us facts or skills — they change the architecture of our being. They open a threshold we didn’t know was there, and once we cross, nothing looks the same again.

For me, one of those threshold keepers was Dr. Charles Burack — professor, advisor, mentor, and, in many ways, spiritual midwife.

When I stepped into his classroom, I thought I was there for education. What I found was initiation.

Teachers as Thresholds

Every true teacher is a threshold. They don’t just hand you content — they invite you to cross into a deeper version of yourself. Sometimes that threshold is gentle, a slow unfolding. Sometimes it’s fiery, a crucible that melts away who you thought you were.

Chuck embodied this role. He didn’t just teach emotional intelligence or transpersonal psychology — he taught me how to feel when I thought I couldn’t. He didn’t just guide me through writing my own story — he helped me realize I was already the author.

His wisdom was never about memorization. It was about transformation. He was less a lecturer than a threshold keeper, holding the space until you dared to step through.

Ornately carved wooden door framed by a detailed stone archway, showcasing intricate floral and scrolling patterns, reflecting historic craftsmanship.

Pop Culture Mirrors

This truth isn’t confined to academia — we see it in the stories we tell.

In Dead Poets Society, Robin Williams’ character Mr. Keating doesn’t just teach poetry. He becomes a threshold for his students to see life differently, to seize the day, to claim authorship of their own existence.

Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” echoes the same theme: “Can I handle the seasons of my life?” Every season, every landslide, is a threshold — frightening and beautiful.

Even comedians like George Carlin played this role, shattering illusions so audiences could cross into new awareness. Humor was the doorway; awakening was what waited on the other side.

Thresholds are everywhere when we have the courage to recognize them.

Wisdom Traditions on Thresholds

Kabbalah teaches that wisdom (Chokhmah) and understanding (Binah) are generative only when they meet compassion. The crossing of wisdom into compassion is itself a threshold — one that leads from analysis into integration.

Rumi, the Sufi poet, reminds us: “Try to accept the changing seasons of your soul, even the winters.” Every season is a threshold, even the ones that feel barren or bleak. Winter is not an ending — it’s a portal into rebirth.

And the Gospel of Thomas teaches: “If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.” The act of bringing forth is the threshold itself — the choice to cross from silence into voice, from repression into expression.

The Dharma of Now

Chuck’s life reminds us that thresholds are not abstract. They are daily, embodied, communal.

Maybe for you, the threshold is deciding to feel what you’ve explained away.

Maybe it’s choosing to stop proving yourself and start stewarding what you already carry.

Maybe it’s forgiving yourself, or daring to speak aloud the story you’ve hidden.

Thresholds can be terrifying. They ask us to step into the unknown, to leave behind the safety of what is familiar. But they are also sacred. On the other side, new life waits.

A Community Practice

This week, I invite you into a practice of honoring thresholds:

1. Name one teacher in your life who served as a threshold for you. Maybe it was a professor, maybe it was a parent, maybe it was someone you met only once who changed everything. Write their name down.

2. Reflect on what door they opened in you. What part of yourself became possible because of them?

3. If you can, reach out and thank them. If they’re no longer living, speak their name in gratitude. Honor the threshold they carried you across.

A woman enjoys a moment of reflection on a balcony café, pen in hand, as she contemplates her work on a laptop.

The Reality Check

Here’s the reality check: thresholds are never comfortable, but they are always transformative. And teachers — whether in classrooms or in life — are sacred because they help us see the doors and dare us to cross them.

Chuck was one of those teachers for me. He believed my feelings existed when I didn’t. He stopped me from chasing validation in a PhD I didn’t need. He reminded me that the story of my life wasn’t broken — it was unfolding.

And now, as he steps into retirement, the torch passes to us. We are the living archive of his wisdom. We are the students turned stewards, carrying the threshold forward for those who come after us.

So this week, beloveds, honor the thresholds in your own life. Cross the ones you’ve been avoiding. And thank the teachers who dared to hold the doorway open.

Because life is not just about understanding. It’s about crossing.