Closed Doors

…can open windows to the soul

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Last night, much happened. I came home from work and my beloved husband had changed out the video card in my computer. He’d also installed a programmable light switch in our media room that can be linked in to our Echo dots, so we can manage it with our voices; “Alexa, set the media room lights to 20%,” and so on. He described to me the confusion over wire colors from the old switch, and how he had to look it up, then get everything right, then he had to program it. In all, it was no small task, but he did it as he does all things he sets out to do — carefully, and completely. Yes, he has inherited that from his dad, who never gives less than his all to any task he begins.

Additionally, after 8:00, I received notification that a job I’d hoped to get wasn’t available to me. I won’t describe the whole sequence of events, but suffice it to say I think I irritated one of the managers there, before I ever got too far into the process, and I will always believe that is the reason I was overlooked; not because my skills nor anything else were lacking.

Interestingly, however, yesterday at work I had a client who put my feet a bit further on the path I am walking to open my own business. I thought, at the time, that perhaps if I got this great job, I might become a bit slack on pursuing my own business; I’d be making more money, so obviously the financial gain would help me buy the supplies I need; however, the time commitment would probably get in the way of what I’m trying to do, but because I’d be making more money overall, I’d get comfy and not push forward. So yeah, I think things happen when and how they’re meant to.

A very interesting result came about from this, though. It began as I was in the shower, and my beloved was getting himself set for bed. I decided that I needed to make sure he knew how much I appreciated his efforts, and how grateful I am to him that he takes care of these things. That was shortly followed by an epiphany of sorts; I am not the most volubly affectionate person out there. I say “I love you” only when I mean it, and every time I say it, I mean it absolutely. As I was getting ready to walk into the bedroom, though, it dawned on me that my husband, who is volubly affectionate, understands this about me. He understands the deep regard I hold for him, and he understands that I never say something I don’t mean, and always say exactly what I do mean. So when I thank him for his work, he knows I mean it. When I tell him — not as often as I should, I think — that I appreciate him, he knows from the top of his head to the tips of his toes how very much I mean it. And this is why he is content for me to be less effusive in my praise; he knows when I give it, I mean it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

This was followed by another epiphany, and this one larger. At this point, I’d left the bedroom to go camp on the magic couch that is guaranteed to let me sleep, and I was contemplating the perfection of the moment. A door closed, but that was ok and, in fact, it opened me up to continue on a path I’ve set myself. I had thanked my beloved, and he had glowed in the knowledge that I love him dearly, that I appreciate him, and it occurred to me that the greatest state of humanity is when we can share ourselves, so very completely and deeply, with another.

We humans, we are not meant to be solitary creatures. Even those of us somewhat reticent in our speech and affection are still designed to interact with other people. And I realized that the highest form of growth is the ability to help someone else grow. The highest state of happiness, of joy, is to help someone else achieve happiness and joy. It is not enough to obtain wealth, nor power over others — it is enough, it is sufficient, to be a valuable part of a team that works toward growth and creation. When you can share that with another, or with many others, then you are rich, you are sufficient, you are a part of something beautiful and wonderful and amazing.

That led to yet another epiphany of sorts (yes, last night was a busy night!). I was opened up to the vastness of the universe. One universe; regardless of the immensity of our universe, it is infinite, and infinite means there is no room for another; one universe. Or, in the vernacular of people whose faith is a part of their religion, one God.

Only one. Single.

But we, we humans, we little brief-lived scurrying things, we are many. And in our many, we interact, the universe within us interacting with the universe within another. Yet we are all born of the same one universe.

Is it not possible that this state of being, this physical incarnation we all share, is in fact the universe’s way of interacting with others, of seeing things through different eyes? Imagine that. Imagine one universe, all-encompassing — yet alone. Then imagine the teeming multitudes of lives on this small planet — human, animal, insect, plant. So many lives! And we, we small humans, we have the ability to interact with each other, to help each other, to build each other up, to build up and glorify all that is around us, even if it’s four-legged or six-legged or rooted.

Is it not possible we are the universe’s means of experiencing community? Think of the prefix com, which means “together” and “in association”. Then think of the word unity, which means “the state of being united or joined as a whole.” For me, this was a wow moment. A moment of depth, of realization hanging on the edge of perception. Together, united, joined as a whole.

I believe this is our natural state. I believe that we come from one source, and we return to that one source. I believe that our highest expression of our very selves is the expression that causes us to come together, to build up, to make things whole and complete.

I saw it. Wish I could explain it, but I saw the connections; the link between myself and my husband, myself and my children, myself and our furkids, myself and the stranger on the street with whom I interact. I saw these links, and I saw them spreading ever-outward, until the whole world is covered with these lines of connection. And then I saw all those links reaching out, back into the universe, and building. Ever building, ever growing.

Community. This is our goal and, for those of us who are aware of our place within that, of our responsibility to shape that community toward growth and love and harmony; for those of us who are quietly sure in our place in this growing community, nothing can be taken from us that doesn’t matter. You can take our possessions, we still have our connection. You can isolate us; we still have the knowledge of this level of beauty within ourselves. You can make our physical lives harder; it only builds up our spiritual lives, makes them stronger.

You can’t take anything from us we aren’t wiling to give, because the important things, the things that matter, aren’t tangible. They’re held within us and, when and as we can, they’re shared out with those around us.

We are part of a whole, not whole parts moving in isolation. Our strength is our ability to come together for common goals; our beauty is the universe being a part of this, within us.

All this, last night, escalating from one door closing.

4 thoughts on “Closed Doors”

  1. One of the greatest pieces of writing I have ever read. Not many people take the time to think of these “links” and what they mean and how meaningful and important they are.

    “…it occurred to me that the greatest state of humanity is when we can share ourselves, so very completely and deeply, with another.”

    Like

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