Dis-assembling the very nature of men

   I wonder when the first door was invented. 

   We as a society have speculated endlessly on the origins of the wheel and of fire, but what of the door?  Who was the first man to blockade the entrance to his cave so as to afford himself a modicum of protection and a sense of sanctuary?  It was, in all probability, a man, as men build things.  It’s in our blood.  Give a boy some water and some mud and he’ll invariably build a damn to hold the water back.  Mottes, Baileys, stone keeps, castles, fortresses… men built them all.  It’s in our nature as men.  Build something to protect myself.  To protect that which I have gathered as mine.

  And probably sometime later, that early man discovered that, that door served double duty.  In addition to protection, it was a place to strike out from.  As no ken was possible, a potential enemy arriving at the closed door could not know for sure the strength of forces marshalled within.  There was no way to judge the depth of the hollow that lie beyond… was there a single man or a multitude?  Vigorously armed or defenseless?  There was simply no way of knowing until the door was thrown open and the defenders poured forth into battle.

  So removing from it’s hinges a door, and leaving the portal thrown open wide is counter-intuitive to a man at best.  Fool-hardy and perilous more generally.  Deadly and oft times fatal at worst. 

   So it is with the doors we erect within ourselves.  They are there to protect and to provide safe haven.  To engender a sense of wariness in those that approach, until they prove trustworthy enough to pass within or until they prove dangerous enough to be  driven away.

   I have spent these past months in grand experiment, eschewing  the protection of a weir to the rivers of my soul… and to my inner self.  This blog is part of that experiment.  I have permitted any passing spirit to peer inside and know my depths and my every weakness.  I have allowed myself no protection of that which is mine on the hopes that such protection was not necessary amongst those with whom I share this existence.

   I can report back to you now that doors do serve a purpose. 

   I for one, need a door.  Perhaps a moat as well. 

   My adventure into candor & forthrightness was at first heartening.  The light which poured through the open doorway was a pleasant respite from the cool, darkness I had felt when it was closed.  But I have lost much in the process too.  I have been stripped of some things that I treasured.  I’ve been inadvertently raped and plundered by those very souls that inspired me to remove the door in the first place.  They are not at fault by any means.  Society knows the intent of a door, so when one finds an open gateway, it can only be assumed that there is nothing sacred or valued within and that anything found there is free for the taking.  To be fair to my fellow man, things have been left for me as well.  The traffic was two-way for sure.

   I’ll probably open my door again in the future when I feel safe once more… when the footfalls of maruaders and dilettantes are no longer evident outside… but for now I feel the need to shut the door… and bolt it mightily, that I might sleep and reflect in peace for a bit.   For now, I busy myself with the inventory of that which has been left within the redoubt of my heart and that which has been taken that I might better understand the residuum of my experiment… that I may better weigh it’s costs and benedictions.

   So I bid you adeiu for now, and ask that if you feel the need to pass into my antre, you knock first upon my closed door and ask in a kind and honest fashion to be recognized as a friend.