Separated by wire, by our fear, insecurity, lack of understanding, or too much knowledge. Either struggling against the cage wall or docilely submitting to the confine. Like a frightened pup who circles his space and settles down into his space content with the comfort of the close walls and limited choices. We can watch one another through our wire mesh safe in the knowledge that we cannot be touched, or wound with our own teeth. For some that is an OK trade off. Sometimes that gate opens and if we have the presence to notice, we either rush out or turn towards the back wall and ignore the invitation to freedom. The open door doesn’t promise freedom from loneliness, fear, indecisiveness, insecurity, obsession, anxiety, or boredom, but it does provide the possibility that what we see reflected in the other brave souls who have emerged is a mirror of our own tattered cloak. It’s true that sometimes the lack in ourselves once recognized in kinship by others can be used as a weapon. A weapon once only reserved as a tool to punish ourselves. The whipping is something we have power to grant or deny permission for. What if we took our frailty, our tender heart, our humanness and wore it as armor instead of carrying it clutched to our bellies, heavy and shamed as we stumble and fall. What if in wearing our imperfection without apology we become invincible and the open door becomes a warm exciting invitation to stepping into the world to taste the rain, drink the sun, and gorge on the heat emitting from all the jostling humanity at your elbow.