DOORWAYS
"Often the doorway to success is entered through the hallway of failure." Erwin W. Lutzer
Choosing a topic to write about can be challenging. In my experience, the harder I work at it, the more likely I am to encounter “paralysis by analysis.” Having learned just how counterproductive this is, I’ve taken to allowing topics to choose me. How does this happen? Basically, I think about anything but writing and simply let my mind and eyes wander waiting for something or someone to catch my attention. Then, whatever that “thing” is becomes the topic. Today, it is doorways.
Doorways are ubiquitous - they are everywhere. They allow ingress and egress to houses, stores, banks, barns, nasty gas station bathrooms, classrooms… They may be wooden, glass, metal, curtained… They may be swinging, revolving, overhead, sliding… Without them, we would be confined and quite limited in where we could go and what we could do. Yet, regardless of where they are, what they are made of, or how they operate, doors really just stand there, waiting. Today’s poem is a bit about that.
DOORWAYS
Doorways just stand there
still and silent
waiting for some action
waiting for someone to
come along and
tell them what to do
waiting for someone to
come along and
push or pull them
waiting to be part of your life
waiting to let you in or let you out.
Doorways make no decisions,
but they make decisions fulfillable.
Doorways are there that day —
that day you decide you’ve had enough
that day when you can’t face another minute
— of mind-numbing work at a job you settled for
instead of pushing yourself to something better
— of mind-dulling mediocrity among people who
became your friends because it was convenient
— of mind-killing violence living in fear, flinching at a
raised voice or hand, because you made a
misguided choice —
that day the doorway will be waiting
waiting for you to
— get up your nerve
— get off your ass
— get outta there.
Doorways just stand there
waiting for you to be ready.