Monsters in closets are silly. There is a 99.6% chance that there are no monsters in that closet, however, that 0.4% probability still worries me. For the most part, I am talking about figurative closets and figurative monsters. I do not generally approach my own real closet with caution. Mostly, I just fling it open, rummage through my clothes, and wonder where my favorite shirt went.
Those closets of possibility, however, might hold all sorts of scary monsters. If I open those doors just a crack, Failure might shred into me, slashing straight across my heart. If not Failure, then Unknown will surely wrap its tentacles around me, engulfing me before I can scream. Ineptitude may lash out and break my legs. No-Undo might just latch his fingers around my ankles and jerk me deep into a place from which I may never return, never be able to go back and stare fearfully at the doors of this particular closet, never again get the option not to open those doors.
I have a tendency to stand, paralyzed, in front of these doors, reaching forward slowly, before jerking back and shuddering. I know that I have a good possibility of opening the doors and finding success, that I was sufficiently prepared and able to learn what I need to overcome such monsters, and that the Unknown is often a shy, but harmless beast. I may find that I have no desire to undo a decision, or that making a decision, even if it has poor results, is better than gaping at a door of possibilities, trembling and making up excuses to not open the door. The small chance that there really is a full grown Failure in that closet, or that I may have to exchange the small comfort of knowing every grain in that closet door for the intimidating, shapeless Unknown, is enough to keep me standing there. There I stand, memorizing the grain, imagining growling noises, and likely, losing my favorite shirt to the hungry, but probably harmless Unknown while I delay.
It is admittedly stupid. I miss out on so many opportunities, losing so many shirts, by trying to out wait the monsters, or hoping that the closet disintegrates on its own so I don't have to make the decision. I see it. I recognize the other monster for what it is: Cowardice. The problem is, this one isn't in the closet with the opportunity. Cowardice is outside the closet, leaning into my heart, whispering horrible word pictures into my ear, and running chills through my gut. It sneaks up and masquerades as caution and common sense, but oversteps its bounds. At first, it seemed like a good compromise, but I am beginning to realize it is a foolish choice. Standing still promises that Failure will find me anyway. I would rather face Failure than idle with Cowardice any longer.
I may not be ready to fling open those closet doors and leap full speed at Failure, but I may be ready to quietly slide the doors open, grab a hold of some monster treats, and a good whack-um stick, poke my way into that closet, and find out what is in store. If the risk of Failure didn't exist, success would be unimpressive, and if nothing was scary, bravery would be a flippant word. I have been staring at closed doors for far too long. It's time to get my whack'um stick.
Those closets of possibility, however, might hold all sorts of scary monsters. If I open those doors just a crack, Failure might shred into me, slashing straight across my heart. If not Failure, then Unknown will surely wrap its tentacles around me, engulfing me before I can scream. Ineptitude may lash out and break my legs. No-Undo might just latch his fingers around my ankles and jerk me deep into a place from which I may never return, never be able to go back and stare fearfully at the doors of this particular closet, never again get the option not to open those doors.
I have a tendency to stand, paralyzed, in front of these doors, reaching forward slowly, before jerking back and shuddering. I know that I have a good possibility of opening the doors and finding success, that I was sufficiently prepared and able to learn what I need to overcome such monsters, and that the Unknown is often a shy, but harmless beast. I may find that I have no desire to undo a decision, or that making a decision, even if it has poor results, is better than gaping at a door of possibilities, trembling and making up excuses to not open the door. The small chance that there really is a full grown Failure in that closet, or that I may have to exchange the small comfort of knowing every grain in that closet door for the intimidating, shapeless Unknown, is enough to keep me standing there. There I stand, memorizing the grain, imagining growling noises, and likely, losing my favorite shirt to the hungry, but probably harmless Unknown while I delay.
It is admittedly stupid. I miss out on so many opportunities, losing so many shirts, by trying to out wait the monsters, or hoping that the closet disintegrates on its own so I don't have to make the decision. I see it. I recognize the other monster for what it is: Cowardice. The problem is, this one isn't in the closet with the opportunity. Cowardice is outside the closet, leaning into my heart, whispering horrible word pictures into my ear, and running chills through my gut. It sneaks up and masquerades as caution and common sense, but oversteps its bounds. At first, it seemed like a good compromise, but I am beginning to realize it is a foolish choice. Standing still promises that Failure will find me anyway. I would rather face Failure than idle with Cowardice any longer.
I may not be ready to fling open those closet doors and leap full speed at Failure, but I may be ready to quietly slide the doors open, grab a hold of some monster treats, and a good whack-um stick, poke my way into that closet, and find out what is in store. If the risk of Failure didn't exist, success would be unimpressive, and if nothing was scary, bravery would be a flippant word. I have been staring at closed doors for far too long. It's time to get my whack'um stick.
EGAD!
ReplyDeleteHave you been in my closet?!!!?
Linda T. from OC
@Linda T
ReplyDeleteHaha... are you suggesting that a whack'um stick would not be sufficient to approach your closet?
I once did have a monster in my material closet. I went to bed late, and couldn't sleep, and as I stared into the darkness, the closet door began to shake...that was very unnerving, as I knew my cat was in bed with me. As it turned out, my housemate's cat got into my room during the day without me knowing it, and when I closed my closet door, the cat was napping in there, and napped the entire day, until she was ready for some late night prowling. When I carefully peeked into the closet, the blasted cat came leaping out at me... I was so startle I almost screamed... and then I felt really ridiculous.