Scott Whitby, 2023
There was a door to a place. I was told the place was perfect and necessary. My teachers said that. They said they'd been there. They said the main thing is that the door had a lock that had to be opened just right. They said the lock was easy for them but it had to be opened just right.
I wanted to see the place. The door was formidable and uninviting, big and heavy. It really needed no lock. It was many years old, thousands of years old. If it had ever been open, it must have been a long, long time ago. It was covered with vines that were very old. My teachers could never have opened that door, even have been there. I was confused.
The door was held in place by huge hinges, themselves as big as a usual door, and a lock that was impossibly complicated. It was in the wrong place. It had levers and knobs and pins but nothing about the lock seemed to be holding the door closed. The levers and knobs and pins did not connect to one another. This door could not be opened.
I told my teachers. They said the perfect and necessary place could only be had by opening the lock and that I wasn't doing it right. They said again they did it all the time and that it was easy. I asked again and they said the same, emphasizing how easily they could open the lock. I was embarrassed at first. Then, I didn't believe them. How could they do it and I could not? I needed a new teacher.
I found my new teacher. I told my new teacher what my old teachers said and that what they said did not make sense to me. I said I was embarrassed but I wanted to open the door. I still believed what was behind the door was perfect and necessary. I wanted to know how to open the lock in a way that was just right. She said "Ignore the lock, just push the door...the lock and the door are not important. They are distracting you".
I went back. I pushed the door, ignoring its mass and the lock. The door opened as quietly as a petal falling from a bloom. The other side proved perfect and necessary. There were more doors, at first imposing, but more easily traversed now. One had a woman singing quietly and purely. One had flowers with powerful fragrances. Another had beautiful images, prettier than an autumn hardwood forest. The rooms were warm and cool and comfortable and the air was sweet.
The rooms were connected with each other. They complimented each other. They were welcoming, not foreboding, and they made sense. They said "hear this, smell this, see this" and be this. Be the most beautiful you can be with what you are. Be like us.
When I left, I heard them say they were glad I knew about the door and the lock.
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