When you cross the threshold, as you enter? Your energy is in your step.
    Do you enter boldly, timidly, aggressively, or clumsily? Are you preoccupied, multitasking, skirting being seen, or beaming your presence?

     As your foot hits the floor, the floor knows that you have arrived. Maybe in the future sensors will be developed to indicate this but until then, the science and study of body language applies. What is your bearing, your demeanor, how do you position your hands, what is the timbre of your voice, where do you head for first, and if somebody else is in the room, do you make eye contact?
     Do you walk in like you own the place, or does the place own you?
     How many times have you crossed the same threshold? Is the threshold you are crossing today a new one, or will there be many new ones? What is the floor made of? Wood? Carpet? Concrete? Marble?
     What scents greet you as you arrive? Are you welcomed, or only tolerated?
     Do you barge in as part of a mob, throwing your weight around, or do you step singularly, elegantly, and gracefully into the room? Do you twist and duck as you enter, or is the doorway big and wide? Is the room brand spankin' new, or ancient, hushed, and sacred?

     We enter doorways all the time, every day, even if we're moving between rooms in our home. Right now I am visualizing a new work environment, and seeing myself stepping joyfully across the threshold of whatever room (or rooms) contain it with a sense of wonder, awe, and pleasure. "Ahh...." I exclaim as I look around. "This is the place!".