Learning about locked doors in childhood
wanting to follow a trail of bread crumbs
drifting up to and past
giant doors, medium size doors and teeny tiny doors
wooden doors that only seem locked by
childhood rules and regulations
mom said this and dad said that
with promises suggestively dire
to stop us from going through
when only in a year or two or three
rules change to magically open them wide
‘Now you can go through the door
see what’s on the other side’
is it a place to dance in the flowers, to nibble at knowledge,
is it a grown up grind or an exciting wide open universe
into the narrowing and shifting sands of time and perspective
until under a rock, behind a tree, in the wisdom of our ancestors and teachers
we find a key that opens a next door, and another and another.
We can choose, grab hold and swing through living and life
on each open road or shaded lane or windowed hallway
with curiously coloured choices
that beckon and call us until
so much noise, so many numbers of days and weeks and years
stop us from doing much
but running back and forth
asking questions, giving directions, responding to
bells and whistles and voices of past, present and future
until we see that the only important doors
are those of our minds, our hearts and our souls
and yet there is always another and another
the mystery of our bodies and of the universe
ever presenting us with paths we each will take
with no musts or have-to’s
except to be safe and secure in the knowledge
of our own set of keys within us to choose
which door to open,
which door to turn away from
and which door is just right.
“You suppose you are the lock on the door. But you are the key that opens it.”
~ Rumi
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