Open, arrested, closed

Open my mind, my heart, my being. As Rumi said, Universe rolls in ecstasy at our feet. But first, we must see it; to see it, we must be open. Open to being wrong. To the new. To change. To having our worldview shattered. To love. To death. To every shade in between.

Arrested. I fear looking or seeing. Perhaps the truth is too big for me to process. To scary to confront. A betrayal. An illness. Our finances. The story we have been telling ourselves for most of our lives. To see and hear these things means we have to change. And that is terrifying.

Closed. Squeezed out. Refusal. Absolute. Entropic. Righteous. An immovable block. There is nothing to be done when we encounter a closed mind or opinion. Closed requires a steady, enduring context of hardship to shatter the prison of being closed. The irony is that when we are closed to any other option, we believe we are free. Pain and existential crisis are the portals to release us from this invisible to us prison.

Open, arrested, closed. A worthy self-inquiry is to consider the whole of our lives — to identify the places we inhabit in any of these states of mind and being.

Photo Taken December 16th 2022

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