Hell In the Hallways

I've heard this saying a number of times ... "When one door closes, another door opens.... - but it can be hell in the hallways!"

Since the first days of 2006 and probably even before, I have been actively closing doors. For those of you who read my contribution to Sekhmet Rising, you will have had a first hand glimpse at my inner state as I chose to close the door on a career path that had become how I defined myself. I had crossed the threshold from doing to becoming the role and, in this particular case, the role was much smaller than I am.

I left behind a number of things since then and at first I felt a bit lost in the hallways. I knew the door was closed, I didn't want to reopen it but I wasn't clear what door to open next. I felt like I was standing still in the middle of a busy corridor, being buffeted by the surging crowds. Everyone else seemed to know where they were headed. They were all rushing to and from places. Some were going around and around in a revolving door but it seemed as though they were fully absorbed and even happy to do so. Others wandered aimlessly, lost and searching. A very few moved purposely.

Everywhere I looked, people were in motion. I felt like I was playing statue. I felt like time was slowing down for me and I was becoming a spectator to the mad frenzy that seemed to be all around me. I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to burst out of my stillness and join the action. I wanted someone to wave a magic wand and break my spell of stillness and then hand me my new room assignment. There I stood, rooted to the spot. Swaying like an underwater plant as the tides of people surged past, swaying me to and fro. I could see all the doors. The choices were staggering - and I was still.

Every now and then, I decide that I'm tired of waiting for the next door to open and I start elbowing my way in. So far I've found myself in a number of broom closets where the space is so tight I have to back out. Other times I've burst through the door only to find myself in a hushed room filled with folks that are sleeping and aren't at all interested in waking up - so feeling apologetic but certain that sleep isn't what I want, I slink back out leaving them to their slumber. I'm not ready to take on the task of shaking them all awake.

Once in a while I drop into a party room. I like to stay for a while in these places. I soak up the ambiance and after a short stay I start to feel frazzled and overwhelmed and decide that as much fun as it is, I'm tired of hearing the same song over and over again. Time to leave. And, again, there I am in the hallway.

Waiting, watching for that door to open. The one I can't quite see from this vantage point but I am sure its there. I feel like I'm moving slowly through the chaotic crowds now. My movement is neither frenzied nor aimless - it is patient and persistent. Every now and then someone who has zoomed past me a number of times while frantically searching for their destination will stop and ask directions, assuming that given my pace, I must know where I am going. I don't.

I can tell that I'm heading in the right direction though. I've been through most of the doors that lie behind me and I know that I need to keep moving forward. I also know that it will be there - its not going anywhere, so why rush? No need to burst through that door only to fall into a breathless, exhausted heap on the floor. And its not worth getting so caught up in the infectiousness of frenzied searching because that begins to take on a life of its own and pretty soon you become so hooked on the adrenaline of the thrilling chase that you forget what it was that you were searching for in the first place. I know - I've spent time in that corridor too.

No, the next door looks different from any door I've been through before. Its someplace I have yet to have been. In fact, I never even thought it was a door at all. Standing on the threshold, hand on the knob there is another period of hushed stillness. This time it is a coiling up of energy. A deep centering breath. I can hear the rustle of things being readied on the other side and know that while I have yet to emerge through that opening, whenever I do, I will have arrived right on time.

Its only hell in the hallways if you decide it is. If you believe that its all intelligent and purposeful - even when it looks otherwise, then its not hell at all. And perhaps its not a hallway after all, but a series of antechambers, encapsulated experiences, each opening into another. Stay as long you like or move as fast as you can, either way its your journey to design, and when you are ready the next door emerges and you can choose to open it, or not.