Sunday, December 11, 2005


There are those of us who open doors and those of us who close them.  Some go through invited, others intrude.  Some use doors to enter into wisdom and knowledge, some use doors to hide behind.  Doors can lead to holy places or to evil.  Doors can protect friends or permit enemies to enter.  Doors can be strong and sturdy, or weak and frail. Doors are built and doors rot in the eternity of time.  There will always be doors.  Which doors will you choose?
December 10, 1992

In my private, hand written journals, the entries are far more trite and far less pithy than what I write for public consumption.  To be fair, I don’t write anything terribly pithy or interesting here, either, but I try to make it more interesting than, “OMG, like that guy is so hot, I hope he asks for my number!” as I do (er, well, did) back in the day.  Still, there are silver threads of glimmering moments when I could finally say, “I grok!”  There were eloquent expressions of pain and loss.  I also have written a tidbit of amusing laugh-out-loud slapstick, but most are so interwoven with inside knowledge and jokes that they don’t transfer well to here.  Two themes that repeatedly resurface in either metaphorical sense or even in literal sense are those of doors and of dancing.  They are ideal examples of how my mind works to this day.

You see, doors are _things_… things including people or situations.  Dancing is action, or, more specifically, the action of living life, or the way living life brings about action.  Sometimes it was easier to just jot down a quick one line of, “I’m deaf to the music and thus can’t find my footing on the dance floor,” to express the fact that I was feeling oblivious and lost and couldn’t figure out what the heck I was supposed to do.  Or regarding relationships, I could write, “The slow, subtle dance of sensuality brought us together for a brief moment in time - a single dance ,” so I could write about a one-night stand without fear of someone reading my journal and freaking out.  (Not that I generally worried about it too much as privacy was highly respected and regarded in my home while I was growing up, but still.)

I still feel doors around me.  Doors have always opened so easily for me.  There’s rarely been an issue coaxing a lock open, if need be, though most often the doors open of their own accord, like the automated kind at grocery stores.  Sometimes I think there are even treadmill like walkways ushering me in before I have the chance to really think about whether or not I want to go in.  Most often, I simply want to take a peek in, I don’t really want to go dancing there.  Most of the time I’m just curious.  I hate closed doors.  I want all doors to be as open as mine, merely for the sake of _looking_, so when a door remains firmly closed, I take it quite personally and will generally go to great extents to try to pry it open.  As anyone who has firmly held their door closed knows, prying the damn thing open is not generally appreciated, and even if I can work my way inside, there’s always a certain lack of trust and fear left over in the room toward me.  Of course, to be fair, sometimes my prying the door open for myself left the door open for others to quietly creep in, and _those_ people ended up becoming quite important and valued friends.

Still.  Respect.  Boundaries.  I need to learn this.

Through the years, I have learned to recognize stop signs more readily.  I have avoided locked doors entirely (usually) but have found a great interest in doors that were guarded.  What treasures must lie within if there is a guard at the door, right?  (And truly, I have never been let down in that regard, though with treasures always lie traps.)  Through the years, I have learned to close the door quietly behind me rather than slamming it carelessly.  Through the years, I have learned to identify the _truly_ scary doors and while I do find myself fascinated, I’ve learned to steer clear more often than not, for my own benefit and safety.  Through the years, I’ve always known that what I see on the door doesn’t indicate what’s actually inside.

What I haven’t learned, and it’s something I readily admit I need to work on, is that just because someone opens a door doesn’t mean I have to go through.  Just because I’ve crossed the threshold doesn’t mean I have to stay.  Just because I have taken a glance and seen what’s inside doesn’t mean it isn’t worth going in to visit, because the experience may well be richer than I might have expected.  Most importantly, I think, is that when I open my door, if others choose not to enter, it is their right and should not so deeply effect me.  Maybe they just aren’t in the mood to dance.  Maybe they have their eyes on other doors.  Maybe they’re content behind their own door.  Maybe there are already too many open doors.  Regardless, there is a need for everyone to pick and choose and I have to learn to respect that.

For those who have invited me in, for those I have visited before but have not visited in a long time, I apologize.  Do not think I have forgotten the path to your doors.  Do not think that your space is not important to me or isn’t inviting.  Merely realize that sometimes my door is guarded and I can’t get out.  Sometimes I see too many open doors and get overwhelmed, quickly slamming my own door for protection.  Sometimes I am just forgetful, wandering around opening doors so frequently that I never bother to actually go in.  It is not personal, it is just part of who I am.

Oh.  And just because my door is sometimes see-through doesn’t mean I have granted permission for you to look in nor to comment on what you see.

Posted by Liberty at 01:38 AM

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