Quote of the Day:
Knowledge of "what is," does not open
the door directly to "what should be."
~Albert Einstein~
Current Local Weather:
Gusts of wind causing extreme
fire dangers within my soul.
Currently on my iPod:
"You Don't Know Me"
That's What I Say
John Scofield & Aaron Neville
Dear Family, Friends and My Family of Friends,
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about choices. If you haven't realized this, then go here to read about my thoughts on choices…As I was finishing up all 3 seasons of the United States of Tara, there was a line in one of the last episodes that went something like this: Don't worry about knocking mom, this is your house. Doors are merely a suggestion. (Why they cancelled this show, beats me. I am thoroughly disappointed in not knowing what was going to happen after Tara gave in and decided to go back to the looney bin...Tara, Buck...Alice...don't worry, once I win the lottery, I will gladly put your show back on air)
As you may have guessed by the title, this post is about Doors. No, not those folks.
Actual doors. Those plywood/hardwood/fiberglass fixtures sitting between you and the world...yep, these Doors.
These doors...we all have them in our lives. Sometimes they take the form of people...unexpected humans that tear down our walls without knocking or the care of wanting us to know that they're about to enter our personal space. And are the doors that lead into our rooms, our personal spaces, just suggestions or are they coping mechanisms, shadows of real security, for what we don't want to face?
We can open, close, leave ajar and hide behind them. But there's always our inner selves that know that closing, slamming or bolting them shut in the face of our future, present and past, is going to sting when heard and felt on the other side. As the quote says: They're just merely suggestions. Doors can keep us locked up in a place that no one can enter and no one can escape from. It's up to us as to whether or not to take the suggestion of openness.
This is how we lose ourselves. Myself included.
For those of you that don't know me, let me qualify the above statement by saying that I'm completely and utterly indecisive. Take me out to dinner, and it will take me at least 4 impatient waitress rounds to decide on food or even what kind of wine or soda. My ability to make decisions is usually a group effort, just like in Tara's mind. No, I don't have Dissociative Identity Disorder, but I do have parts of myself that are locked behind well closed/slammed shut and bolted doors in my mind. And just when I think I've lost my mind, the team of decision makers that live above my sinus cavities, comes out to help me. These decision execs consist of my past, my present and my future mistakes, victories, decisions, and loves. The doors that keep these traits or aspects of myself, are just merely suggestions. They can make or break you. But only if you let them. Can one decision really define who you are? can one missed opportunity bring you down into the ruins? At times, it sure as hell feels like it can.
Some people, when faced with decisions, kick the door open as hard as they can. They kick it in until the door is off its hinges and laying at the feet of the life on the other side. For most though, it is a mere turn of the wrist that's good enough when it comes to opening a door. These folks know that a slight flick can bring us back to who we were and/or always should have been. It is truly our choice as to how we handle our personal situations, our lives. It always has been. Sometimes losing the ability to violently handle the opportunities that lie across our life paths, isn't a bad thing. These types of choices often involve teams of people, places, things, experiences…whatnot…etc. And even if we don't trust these pasts of ours, they have to be relied upon. This is the only world we truly know when it comes to knowing how we got into the messy business of being ourselves.
These are people who could care less if anyone ever comes as they've been there, done that. They need no excuse to open their doors. They leave their doors, windows and hearts open to suggestion and opportunity, regardless of the implied danger. The wayfaring strangeness of it all is a rush, a thrill, a misguided adrenaline junky's nightmare. But it's ok. For all of these friends of mine are always home, always ok and always willing to let their journey be clouded with darkness, redemption and inventive forsaken yesterdays. I just hope that what we've all built as a team is strong enough to stand up against the reality we have to face.
Even though we may be cut, scraped, bruised with our flesh lying around like discarded splinters of wood on a shop floor, we have to have faith that the indecisiveness of our personal process' lies in our ability to heal the damage from within and behind those doors. We have to cut into the healthy flesh in order to expose the unhealthy. And then we sit and wait. We wait and wait and wait and hope that the bloody mess left on our soles and the infarction upon our soul that was caused by kicking the door in, heals and that we have in fact, not made everything worse….but better.
It is our choice to make. It was always our choice. Still is and when we're ready, still will be.
I've made my choices and have regrets to some extent, but I never tread without the conscious footsteps of my past following me, instep, heel-to-toe, behind me. I hope you're in the same place I am. Looking toward the future, opening the door for a life anew to come in, isn't a bad place to be.
Yours in Plywood, Pasts and Pushing the Doors Open,
Cicily
