Sliding Doors

At each threshold we come upon, we are presented with a divergence of our path. Do we pummel through the door with no hesitation, or pause for just a moment, sending a ripple through the time chain of events that the hesitation, no matter how brief, may cause? Do we sprint through the station as the conductor announces imminent departure, fervently hoping to squeeze through the closing doors on the Metro, or do we leisurely stroll to the platform, loitering to people watch as we wait for the next train, a decision that very well may drastically alter the experiences in our lives from that moment on.  No matter what we do, there is one truth—life is full of sliding doors, not rotating ones.  We cannot pass through a revolving door only to turn around and go through again, life unchanged. It's in the same way we will never step into the same river twice—the river's location may appear the same, but every other little detail of life will inevitably be altered--your step manipulates the river's currents, even ever so slightly, which in turn move pepples on the river bottom that changes invertebrate habitats that changes bottom food sources and eventually flows up into the apex of the food chain and the river's ecology. It will never be the same river. There is no zero-sum game, no cancellation of one action by another; chemistry and physics indoctrinate us to the idea that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction--well, yes, but this does not mean that we return to our initial starting point. We cannot balance our choices, unmake our decisions. We live, walking ever forward down the halls to which the doors we passed through open.  Our only true disadvantage is that most times, the doors are solid. There is rarely a glass window cut in, or a even a full glass door, that allows us to peek into the hallway, into the next room, through which we would pass, if we ever brought ourselves to turn the knob and push. Still, even if there was a window, some sort of transparency, a sneak preview of what's behind "door number one", it would still only be a snippet of where that hallway may lead.  After all, a hallway has many doors, and if you are, for some fortunate reason, able to see through one door, inevitably you will not see through the next.  So, maybe the opaqueness of a good, solid hardwood door is truly an advantage, a fortunate gift. After all, short-sighted vision can be deceptive and often fails to provide the full scope of the big picture.  We wouldn't sit down and forecast a 5 to 10 year budget (or even a 1-3 year forecast) based on how we spent our money in one single day or even one single month, we look at the whole year, and trends from years leading up to that, broken down of course, but we still consider the entire annual spending to better understand what the needs may be for whatever the future holds.  Ultimately, seeing only a snippet of what's in store down a the path behind door number one could lead to extreme disappointment and heartache, eventhough the immediate track looks promising. Whereas, a path opening up behind door number two, which at first looks bleak and miserable, may eventually lead to sunny meadows, abundant in happiness and success. Though, in seeing only those first dark steps , we might choose to go through the first door, and ultimately set ourselves up for misery or failure rather than achieve our dreams.

Why, do you ask, do I venture down this line of thinking?  Well, because, as the analogy in my previous paragraph may suggest, I was musing the other day on the movie Sliding Doors, starring Gwenyth Paltrow and John Hannah.  Truly, it is one of the most congruous movies in regards to how our lives change, how they alter, with the tiny cause and effect ripples that glide over the surface of life's waters, eventually crescendoing into large waves that either caressingly lap at the shoreline or destroy it, all due to precise moments, missed or seized—decisions, taken or passed over.  Dramatized as it is, the movie drives home a point-- life is made of the little moments, the inconsequential ones that we might not even realize happen or never consider could have an impact down the road. Our paths diverge, form, and wind based on whether or not we make it through those sliding doors.  And, if we had the opportunity to see the full picture, to see what might happen if we powered through or paused, what decision would we make?  For one, I find myself just entering the lobby of the station, do I choose now to run, sprint with all my energy to squeeze through the closing doors of the metro, or do I go off for coffee, read a newspaper, enjoy the moment and relax, knowing there will eventually be another train to take me on my way? 

Either way, I wouldn't mind bumping into John Hannah. J

Content Copyright 2010. Ami Lovelace. All Rights Reserved.