Since I was a kid, I had the odd habit of walking crooked.  I was always looking past other directions, and stuffing flowers in my pockets. I would hum songs and skip my way across the park.  And above all… I always had a taste for looking beyond, moving forward.

It started small. Disappearing into the clothing store racks as my mother would desperately try to look for me. Walking across the street to go by the lake with my dog at age 4 as my grandmother was desperately looking for me.  Moving forward , always wanting to know where on earth the other part of the road left that I didn’t see.

It was no wonder that when my family travelled to Bolivia a couple things happened which set me on paths to accidents : They got their passport stolen and I got severely burnt as well as scared by crazy mask people in carnivals.  Is this why it’s normal that I expect travel mishaps to happen?

And I always hated closed doors…. things beyond my reach the giant cookie jars above my head.


I stand across a giant closed metal door. Somehow, I believe miraculously it will open. I have been standing pounding on it for ages. I don’t necessarily like what is behind the closed door, but I hate that it is closed.

I have memorized the details inside as much as I can. I have seen through the window what happens, who is there and what they are doing. I overhear the conversations and have a burning desire to go inside and be part of it

But the door , essentially, is closed. It is not going to open… or even if it does it isn’t important. The important thing is the time I am spending wasting standing in front of that door. The cold that permeates me , the hunger from not eating, the back pains I am getting from standing and the eye strain.

The door man, it just won’t open. And that is what bothers me. Because what if, maybe on the off chance, if I stand here long enough things will change. What if  I leave and things become good finally, and I wasn’t patient enough to endure it. And then what?

We all have our closed doors. I have spent an unhealithy amount of time thinking about men who will never love me the way that I love them. I have spent a long time pondering every single mistake that won’t change. I have spent a long time lamenting my eating habits but not a lot of time changing them.  I have spent far too long in jobs which I grew to hate,  lived in places that no longer offered me anything, and put up with a lot of unhealthy patterns. I have continously tried to mend friendships of friends who have long stopped communicating with me. I rent apartments where the situation becomes unlivable yet I do not leave.

Because I just can’t stand closed doors.

But what if I am the ultimate closed door? What if, in my stubbornness, maybe what I am doing is losing all those opportunities that I might have had, if I hadn’t focused on closed doors… Great now I am gonna see the closed opportunities as closed doors.

Maybe I should just focus on the open doors. There has to be plenty of them I just have some trouble seeing them.  Sure, I have lived virtually in a nomadic existence, but  it’s only because I have always had a passion for discovery. I always wanted to traverse new frontiers of understanding.  I always liked the most exotic thing on the menu. I loved challenges

So, I should know that with that does come a fair share of closed doors. I need to stop being a challenge junkie.  Maybe ham and cheese sandwiches aren’t so bad, with a slice of mango chutney and some horchata on the side.

Maybe, in the end they were not closed doors. Because we carry with us the learning we had at that time . Some doors are meant for a day, some are meant for a lifetime. Some we lose the key, some we never had it in the first place. But the true places have no doors, they are ones so connected with your heart that they lead you back to where you belong each and every time.

We are all interconnected, so even those closed doors bring some learning. That job, that apartment, that lost friendship, that person who wronged you, the lost love, the lost opportunity. All these things, you carry with you. Carry in your heart as they become tiny embers binding you to the universe. Anecdotes, small and large.

So walking away is never a bad thing. It is only the next step in the journey. But we should do something which uses the best of our abilities, makes us grow and move forward. Small little feathers on our back.



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