What is it about a closed door that specifically makes us feel shut out? What type of personal perspective allows for that view? Maybe a closed door indicates to us that we have been cast from our individual Edens. That no matter what land we currently occupy, its landscape is diminished by the fact that it is other than what we perceive that we are being denied. And what are we being denied? We aren’t sure. We just are sure that it is not available to us. And so we stare at the closed door and obsess. Or we storm the castle to retrieve some treasure, though we know not the treasure’s name, only that is must sparkle in it’s shimmering value. I woke up this morning wondering what part we play. What part I play. In the construction of a closed door. Am I the wild thing that needs to be shut off? Do I require the boundaries that a closed door provides? In the murky moments of egress from night to day, I saw that the door was transparent – permeable. There was no key. No threshold that required crossing. And in this receptiveness was access.