"There are things known, and things unknown, and in between are the Doors."
At the beginning of this year, I saw how seemingly solid plans can disperse in the wind in matters of seconds. Over the course of the next months, working through hills of pain, I've learned that in my personal life I am not someone who embraces uncertainty. I like things to be in order. But in my professional life, I have learned to accept and adapt to uncertainty.
Kafka wrote a parable "Before the law" about a man who waited a lifetime in front of a door, hoping to gain entrance. Right before his death, he questions the guard why although everyone seeks the law, no one has come in all the years. To which the guard answers: "This gate was made only for you. No one else could ever be admitted here. I am now going to shut it." Too often we wait in front of doors, thinking someone else surely will take the lead. For the last few months I found myself stuck with what probably will be a life-changing decision. Flip-flopping, probably tugging on some heart strings too much, and hoping that a previously formed plan will be back in play, it was a close friend who finally persuaded me. "Colleen, for as long as I have known you, you never let an open door close on you, without walking through it."
The shift from thinking "I'm not ready to do that" to thinking "I want to do that - and I'll learn by doing it" takes us to new doors. We meet it with some measure of trepidation, some fear. Are we on target? Do we have what it takes to finish strong? Will our training be sufficient? Are we prepared for the obstacles? Maybe part of why I run is to find out what I am up against.
I love new beginnings, second chances, springing forward and falling back on the clock, accepted apologies, personal records, and journals full of blank pages. I love not knowing and the curiosity of wanting to find out: Moments that change a finish line into a starting line.