Well, you try to wedge it shut, and the damn thing just flings itself open anyway.
No, that isn’t quite the saying, is it? Typically, it’s “when one door closes, another one opens” and that is not untrue. We often isolate our thinking to singular points in time and treat situations, whether good or bad, is if they will never end, and so we are loathe to risk ‘moving on’ or ‘moving forward.’
It’s human to want to do that, to stay in the comfort zone, even if that comfort zone is full of pins and needles and sharp objects, pains and fires, burning things and loss. Even when it’s bad, it at least is the devil you know. What worser thing could await you if you step out of one situation and into the next?
I hate to say it, but it is often the same set of circumstances: good and bad. Lots of elation and happiness; no small amount of grieving. That is the human condition, to sometimes have enough and not enough and too often at the same exact time. As I’ve settled into my new home, I’ve had to come to grips with that reality. You never leave home and you can never go back. The grass is both greener and rotten, too, in patches.
But, let’s go back to the doors: the doors that don’t stay shut. You wedge it shut with a chair, put nails through it, chain the door knob to something heavy and unyielding, and the moment you take your eyes off it, just for a moment–
Boom. It’s there. And it’s slightly cracked. And all your protections? Pshhh! Gone. Poofed, vanished into thin air. It’s just you and that door; light leaking in. What are you going to do? Open it? (It wants to be opened). Shut it again and pray? (How well did that work out last time?) Leap out the window and hope you don’t break both legs as you flee?
I don’t have the answer to that. Life is a hallway of doors and mirrors. You go through some and close some and step through open ones and they bring you back to the hallway, just you and your reflection and an opportunity to figure out if any of the adventures you’ve had changed you – aged you – wizened you – refreshed you–
The only way to permanently close a door is to cease living. As that is not an option for me, as I see it, I suppose I am left in this difficult state of trying to to not be tempted by the leaking light from a place I’ve been with people I’ve known and to embrace new places and new people. To accept the devil I don’t know; to risk great joy and great grief (all at once). Every time in the last 6 months I thought myself past this question, thought that I had closed this door, I blinked, and it reappeared.
I blinked and it was cracked open, beckoning.
I blinked and I am right here, waiting, trying to decide what to do.
Maybe the answer is to not even attempt to close it anymore. Let it do as it will. Let its light shine and beckon.
Who said I had to answer? Who said I had to walk right through?
Who, really, said anything?