author of the oarsman
The Doors Are Open
February 22, 2016

It is beautiful to see that it is always there, shining quietly, patiently.

The house is always there, with its doors forever open, as your core.

You may struggle to break open a window to get in, but the house laughs. The doors aren’t even locked, and as it has told you repeatedly over the years, they are always open.

You walk around the yard for decades, analyzing every brick and feature of the house, to its amusement. The doors are always open.

Finally one day you walk in, and see love is the hearth here. Instead of basking, you turn to sneak in your packed bags, and suddenly you’re outside again. The house continues to laugh tenderly, unmovingly, at your efforts.

You walk in again, this time without bags, but try to repaint or make it comfortable, and are outside again. The house wonders why you think you’re in control, why you want to bring in habits or even come in hoping that you will lose them.

It just sits there patiently, waiting for you to come home, with its doors forever open.