Have you ever walked down a particularly long hallway? Hallways with offices connected to them on the left and right, maybe some marble checkered flooring and chandeliers, with a visible grand door at the end of it. Some days that door seems irresistibly inviting, and other days the offices are a safe harbor. On occasion you only make it down a part of the hallway to achieve the goal for that day, leaving no reason to open that large heavy door at the end. Perhaps it is not your place to do so, the tables inside do not have seats for you and you were not invited in the first place. Yet every day you walk that hallway it seems that whatever is on the other side of that door, looming or not, will undeniably be your eventual reality. Regardless of your current circumstance, you will be there and improve what you come across. You chose this hallway without complete certainty of what would be at the end of it, but any hallway walked would share a similar fate, so you chose the one most vital to you.
Behind that door probably lies another hallway with another door. They all do. Doors painted different colors, marking difference goals, but built within the same hallway that began at the front door. What will always exist to your sides are windows to places outside the realm of your path. Similar in some sorts but not the same. Speaking in different tongues, walking pavements and esplanades, the wisdom that comes through windows compares to bird chirps and passing ship horns. They exist on their own, whether we choose to listen or not. If you stop to open the glass slide you may hear stories of others that delve far into themselves. They speak with voices met with melodious cheer and pain-stricken struggle. They tell their stories to remember who they are and that no matter where they stand in nearness to death, that they existed all along and will continue. They speak to us to build sincere connections, courageously speaking empathetically, unaware if kindness stands in the inner walls behind the glass. When we walk away from that window to move along, without great thanks or continued remembrance of them as an individual, so do they. Yet they have moved us, and that movements’ effects remain with us. We walk forward to another room or back to nestle our heads on downy pillows. Mindless at times, we are, of every movement that has played its part, but aware that movement of not just our own making has brought us where we are.
If windows are not enough, at some point you can decide to break those walls down and stroll an unbound walkway with wisdom wind pushing you forward. Breaking those walls down make unfiltered uncontrollably weathered paths. What was once just wisdom now mingles with the judgement haloed gratuitous advice partnering alongside insecurity projection. Imposter syndrome and questioning achievements can be a result of being open with oneself and allowing the world to witness. The walls no longer hinder the magnitude of energy we live amongst. We learn to carve out the stones lodged at us to pestle tear soaked, sea water scented cement, to lay down on the exposed land we walk.
So on that note,
I will say good morning/afternoon/evening/night.
Till next type.
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