Doors

HOGLP4MU

a doorway.

When my middle son was looking at choices for colleges it was clear to me which was the best option for him. But being that I am the type of mom who likes my children to empower themselves and make their own choices, I said nothing.

Until he was struggling with the doors he had in front of him. So many of the doors were gilded and full of shit, while others weren’t as fancy but would provide a fine experience for him.

Then there was the one door that had been wide open the moment he started the process. They gave him the highest scholarship, was the first one to want him, and sent him all kinds of school rah rah trying to get him to commit. But he wasn’t feeling it.

In fact, he closed the door. Pursued other doors. He took himself on this exhausting trip of not feeling good enough until finally, I showed him the door again. The one that was decorated in rainbows, throwing dollar bills at him and welcoming him with open arms.

“This is a door that wants you.” I said. “All you have to do is walk through it.” And so he did. Sight unseen, he will be attending the Kelley Business School in the fall.

Life is filled with doors. There are those doors with bright colors and ornate handles that we walk through, thinking all of the glory in the world will be on the other side of it, only to find that it was nothing more than a facade. Not only was it a facade, it wasn’t even wood, that shit was particle board.

So you try another door. A little more solid looking. It’s painted white, seemingly stable, but you walk through that door and the crazy is rampant. It hid all of it’s dysfunction, pretended to be something else and you’re running for the exit.

Then there’s the door that was open. It was welcoming, maybe even pursued you, sort of out of left field, and yet you looked at that door and thought, “It’s too easy.” “There must be something wrong with it.” “What’s the catch?” “I’m not ready for this.” “I don’t want it.”

So you slammed that door and left all that it had to offer. Now after visiting all of the other doors, you are thinking back on that door and wondering why you didn’t walk through it. Maybe you’re even wondering if it’s still possible to do so. How do you walk through a door that you previously slammed?

The answer is, you just do! You can always revisit a door you chose to close at one time. Remember…you are the one who chose to do so, so in order to revisit that door, you have to approach it, ring the bell, pound on it, whatever you do when you go to a door, just do that and witness the door re-opening to you.

Do we really need to open a thousand knobs in order to get to a place of knowing what serves our highest good? Well, if you’re one of those, then keep knocking, I like walking through doors, because the more doors I walk through, the more opportunities I get.

It’s pretty simple and need not be complicated. It’s a door. Simply approach the fucking thing. And don’t tell me fear is keeping you from it. That’s bunk! I face doors everyday. I simply buzz the door, turn the knob and show up because it brings me joy.

I am not afraid of rejection because there is no such thing. A door that was previously opened to you can never be fully closed. Unless of course you keep it that way.  A door that was previously closed to you can always be opened, but sometimes we need it to be cracked just a bit so we know it’s okay to approach it again.

Doors are awesome! I took photos of them in Paris because they were so unique. We are all doors really. It’s the face we show the world. Hopefully your door reflects who you are internally, and if it doesn’t, do some repairs, it’s not someone else’s job to fix you.

And if you’re good, keeping walking through the doors that inspire you and make you happy. Slam the ones that’s don’t.

 

 

 

Laughter is the best medicine

Proverbs 17:22, ‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.’

Have you ever met someone so bitter, that it literally makes you laugh? I know that sounds mean, but honestly, sometimes people are so angry that they do angry things and their gestures are so outlandish, it makes you laugh.

One time my family and I went to China Town for the Chinese New Year. When we left we were stuck in traffic and followed a woman on the sidewalk for at least ten blocks. Every time someone walked too close to her, she hit them with her cane. It was like something out of a comedy, only there was no camera.

When we first saw her do it we couldn’t believe it. The people she hit couldn’t either. They would turn around to say something to her and see it was an elderly woman, so they would just keep walking. She did this over and over again and we all laughed hysterically at the audacity she had.

Another time I was with my boys when they were much younger and we saw this woman waiting for the train. She was holding a Subway sandwich in one hand and a cell phone in the other. Every time she cursed some guy named Montreal out on the phone, she flailed her arms to and fro and the sandwich meats danced, almost falling out every time.

As she paced back and forth yelling expletives, she kept saying, “I am done!” It was about the fifteenth time she said it, when one guy walked by said, “I’m not sure I understood her. Is she done?”

I guess you had to be there, but my kids and I still laugh about that sandwich and how it miraculously didn’t fall on the platform.

So now I’ll bring you back to my reason for writing this. In the two stories I just told you, people were drawing attention to themselves with overt gestures, which were both funny.

The other night I was out to dinner with my family and we were laughing a lot. I have three boys. One is a freshman in college who is currently majoring in frat 101. I also have a junior in high school and an 8th grader. When they get together, well…you can just imagine the stories they share.

My youngest was telling one about something that happened at school. He used the word dick and the table next to us looked our way. In fact, the whole evening they stared at us. It wasn’t because we were saying fuck every other word, throwing food around or hitting people with objects. We were laughing.

Laughter is good. People who don’t know how to laugh…sort of sad. People who eavesdrop and judge others cause they are having fun; pathetic.

And you cannot help but laugh at what we were laughing at.

Legends do legendary things. My 13 year old is now a legend at his school, for making a giant penis on the playground in snow. Apparently it was such a distraction that kids were jamming up the hallways to get a glimpse out the window onto the playground where he had left his artwork.

I thought it was hysterical. It was snow. It melts. But the Assistant Principal had to punish him. Detention for two days, for him and his friend.  I’m not sure how she found out he did it, but I laughed again when I thought of her going through hours of video tape to find the culprits.

Had the table next to us heard the entire story would they have laughed? I doubt it. Some people literally walk around like their face might crack if they showed any emotion.

Not me!  I laugh every single day. I especially like kid humor.  Kids don’t have a filter, that’s why what they say and do is funny. But they are being forced more and more every day to produce one. Pronouns, me too, he said, she said, testing, texting, social media. It’s too much!

That’s why I was so thrilled when my son was a kid for an afternoon. I encourage freedom of speech, individuality and laughter.

Now if he had drawn it on a wall, I wouldn’t be writing this.