Open Says Me
by Charles Bowie
A great deal of my life is composed of doors and windows. My place of living, my automobile, and my place of employment are all composed of doors and windows. These items in my daily life contribute to a binary way of looking at things; after all doors and windows are either open or closed. Some might want to get into nuisances and talk about half-open/half-closed doors, in either case both categories play into the logic of access and denial; forward movement or blockage.
The doors in my place of living are open for the most part. I do close them on days when I leave my puppy at home alone. I do this to prevent him from access certain parts of the place. I want to keep him out of places because I’m afraid of what he might do. After all, he’s done a number on papers and even books previously. So there is a sense in which I want to “protect” my stuff when I’m away; and rightfully so I may add.
What about my windows? As I look at them and as I think about them on a daily basis, for the most part they are covered. I haven’t sat at my office desk in quite some time, so the blinds are closed. My bedroom window is covered with blinds and curtains. I leave it this way to create a better sleeping environment. The living room windows are often closed off by blinds and I never open them.
Observation of my windows and doors move me into reflection about life. Is my life often closed off like my windows? Do I attempt to protect “my stuff” by closing myself off? Physical space tends to mirror mental and emotional “space.” If this is indeed true, which, I believe it is, when it comes to my windows I’m led to a question. What would it be like if I just opened the blinds? What would life be like if I “eased” the protective doors? I say eased here because there is a responsibility for oneself. To be overprotective however can be stifling.
This week my windows and doors reflection occurred around the same time The New York Times article entitled ‘God Isn’t Fixing This’ was published. I wholeheartedly agree with the article if we are expecting a being to miraculously use overwhelming force to prevent gun violence, we are lost and naïve. However, as I understand process relational theology and its emphasis on God working in the world through open human hearts, God lures us to fix it. Our hearts must be open and wills willing to do the work. Openness as a disposition towards life is the condition for the possibility of being lured by God to actualize God’s vision for the world.
Open or closed? Which shall we be?
“I say eased here because there is a responsibility for oneself. To be overprotective however can be stifling.” I know this sentence was not the main point of your post, Charles, but I like it. Sometimes us ethically-minded process-relational enthusiasts neglect the fact that we need solitude and self-protection in order to find that “strength of beauty” which is the ideal of a process way of living. Like you, I’m a dog person; but I’ve also learned a bit from cats on the importance of “keeping watch and taking care of yourself.” http://www.jesusjazzbuddhism.org/cats-as-spiritual-teachers.html. I am sure that we are lured by God look out our windows, open doors, and step forward into society in constructive ways; in our nation this takes the form, among other things, of resisting gun culture and protesting gun laws. See John Cobb: http://www.jesusjazzbuddhism.org/beyond-american-gun-culture.html. But I wonder if we aren’t sometimes lured by God also to withdraw, find ourselves, listen to what’s happening inside us, and take stock of our lives. My son once said that dogs are Christian and cats Buddhist: that is, dogs are gregarious, licking your face, while cats sit quietly, meditating in the darkness. Perhaps God lures us toward both? Perhaps both are ways that things (ourselves included) find a little fixing?