through the door

the orange door, originally uploaded by boxersiciliano.

The door...the analogy of our lives...to go through it or not...to open it when we think we might not want to...to choose another door...to wonder why that particular door has shown up at that particular moment in life...be it black, red, blue or orange...in my case, the door in my mind is simple....just like the above shot i took in the alley the other day in 14 degree weather...when i saw it, all the moments and analogies sort of made sense...it was clear...there weren't any other choices in my life at this very moment...it is this door at the end of a corridor which has beckoned me to where I am now and as i make the final steps toward it to open it, i am less and less aprehensive or worried, but more curious and ok with what might be behind it...sort of like the man behind the curtain..for all we know, it is simply the door from the outside to the inside and then there are a thousand more doors to come...maybe life is a series of analogous moments of being outside and then coming inside..like my life has been mostly lived outside and it is time for me to come in and really explore and get cozy and open many more doors...i suppose this is what it feels like for me at this moment in my life before I go into surgery, not that this is a life threatening surgery, but a moment in my life where things have made a shift for sure and something I can always remember as a huge moment in my life...this door...it leads to the rest of my life...which is in front of me at every moment...right now...i think we spend much of our time looking at the main door from outside to in...and wondering how we actually open it and get in...up until then I think we are wandering on our paths in the outside world that will lead us to the moment in life when we find that door...the door, the one, the orange door....

the last moment i remember is the breathe

the tunnel vision,

the orange door

the one that took me there and let me fly

the one that made me blush and almost killed me

the one that was flat and rusted and locked,

for everyone but me...

the door that was heavier than i thought i could move

and lighter than a plastic cup, expectant to be glass and full,

the metal which was cold,

but on the other side is hot with love and warm

drink and talk and food.

this door is my door

it is not yours

it is not ours

it is not somebody's door.

it is mine...and mine alone to open and walk through

I breathe and step and twist,

and disappear inside,

leaving a trail of bread crumbs, not for me,

but for you..so you know that i am safe.

-JD