Doors
I suppose it is a cliché, but it is said – and not just in
The Sound of Music – that when God closes a door, somewhere he opens a
window. I guess your view on this rather
depends on your view on God, but that was last month’s topic…
With the exception of a bare chested image of Jim Morrison
and portals into other worlds, not much else springs to mind when confronted with
the subject matter of doors. Science
Fiction not really being my thing and unsure whether to peer into the smoke
filled rooms of my sometimes misspent youth, I decide Julie Andrews is a safer
venture.
So the sound of slamming doors reverberates around my head
and all of a sudden my life seems like the opening credits of Porridge. Not that I’ve ever been incarcerated please
understand, but thinking of all those missed opportunities, failed
relationships, endings and goodbyes makes me wish the subject matter had been
windows instead.
Actually I’ve got pretty good at opening my own windows and
doing a bunk into the sunshine when necessary, but what if one of those doors hadn’t closed? Which one would I choose? And all of a sudden I’m back in the realms of
science fiction.
There was a rather good film several years ago – well, I
liked it, but then I like Gwynneth Paltrow and John Hannah – when Gwynnie’s
life splits at the point of missing a tube.
Quite literally, how her life may have been different if that particular door
hadn’t closed. I like the concept, and
it was a popular film – I’m not alone.
At times we all wonder what would have happened if things had been
different. But to choose a door, just
one, which one would I choose?
Would I choose one I had closed of my own accord or one that
had been slammed in my face? And having
made my choice would I edge it open gingerly or fling it wide and embrace the
life I now don’t have?
And do I want to have the option to return to the safety of
behind the closed door if I don’t much like
what I find? What if the me on the other side of the door doesn’t laugh as much
or sing as much? What if she can’t stand
on her own two feet, support herself, isn’t a mother? What if she has never travelled to the other
side of the world, ridden an elephant, done a parachute jump, been in a hot air
balloon or stood on top of one of the twin towers?
Would I like my life more or less if I hadn’t barely slept
in a rat infested hole in Bangkok or vomited into a squat toilet shared with
cockroaches while feeling so ill I would happily have curled up and died? If the door of that particular establishment
had been closed would my life be different now?
Well, I might be afraid of cockroaches…
Having chosen my door, will I know what I have done or does
stepping over the threshold mean another closed door behind me? Another life unknown.
Will I still know how to open a window?
Sharon.
A thoughtful piece with some interesting ideas. One or two of the sentences were a little difficult to read i.e 'if I hadn’t barely slept' but over all nicely done. Sally
ReplyDeleteThis resonated with me. And as it says things I find hard to describe, I suppose it must therefore be a good piece. It reflects a train of thought that most of us indulge in. But well done for putting it succinctly. I can think of key 'door' decisions that seem to have been wrong. But what doors lay on the other side of those I rejected? Rather than doors and choices, think of sitting on a riverbank, watching your life flow by, with its flotsam of events and causal relationships. And instead of making decisions, watch them make themselves. If the flow seems slow and life seems stagnant, chuck some random decision rock into the water and hope the waves work well for you. If you can resist analysing probable results first, in which case you'd be thinking too much about which rock, and taking your eyes off the flow. That way lies endless circularity, like a whirlpool.
ReplyDeleteEasy to say. Whirlpools. You can tell I've been to the pub.
I really enjoyed this. Thought provoking stuff. And nice to read an essay for a change. I've squeezed through a fair few window in my time, and once even smashed through a glass revolving door as a child. In a restaurant! That's one door I definitely regret going though... Will look forward to seeing you at the next session. Beth x
ReplyDeleteYes, this really resonated with me too. So many past doors that I occasionally ponder over, and we have all had those Bangkok toilet moments - excruciating at the time, but wonderful topics for the dinner table or down the pub for so many years afterwards. I am of the school that thinks, 'If life is good today, then everything past must have been for the good (even if some of it was pretty shabby in its own right)'.
ReplyDeleteWow, that's the impact your piece has Sharon. Nice
Graham
I love that you wrote in this essay/columnist style. I don't know why no one else has when we've struggled with these subjects. A great insight into you & your thoughts also.
ReplyDelete