Thursday, January 13, 2005
The shoebox
I used to have a shoebox full of dreams. I put my hopes, my plans, my whole future into this box. It was full of memories of a recent past that held promises of a bright future. I was assured that these promises would come to pass. Nearly every week, I'd have something worthwhile to put into it. The shoebox quickly filled to an uncomfortable heaviness which gave proof of its worth. This box, this precious box, held the most ideal future I could imagine. I was very thankful for this gift - not the shoebox, but the promises it contained.
But I've neglected to mention the very small box that I kept in my heart. A very small box can't contain much, right? It certainly couldn't contain anything important in the light of the wonderful shoebox I'd filled, I thought. So, Of course I didn't want to empty the contents of the very small, but very flawed, box into the contents of this perfect shoebox. It would ruin the whole thing, I thought.
I was right, and I was so wrong. I had hoped that the very small box would eventually die of neglect. Instead, it festered.
I decided that I needed to open my very small box and expose its contents to the light. But I lacked the courage. Weekly, sometimes daily, I'd ponder the very small box. I'd wake up in the morning, and the very small box was the first thing on my mind. I'd dwell on it all day and begin any number of nervous habits as I meditated nonstop on the very small box.
The very small box was winning. The very small box was going to consume my life if I didn't open it and address its contents. At the same time, the shoebox was fading away like a distant crossroad in a rearview mirror. The contents of the shoebox seemed trite and meaningless with the heaviness of the very small boxes contents. If I was to embrace the shoebox and what its contents meant, I had to face the very small box and expose it.
Months passed quickly as I mustered courage slowly. The right opportunity. That's all I need, the right opportunity. I have to explain my very small box - I can't just open it for all to see. People won't understand. People won't understand.
But months turned into years and the shoebox that once held my dreams was now just full of envelopes with papers carefully folded inside. Drawings and clippings that seemed to protray a life that didn't exist. I used to have a shoebox full of dreams. Now, it seems I have a shoebox full of lies. A thick band of packing tape holds the corners together as the contents push at the walls trying to escape. The box that once held my dreams is now in a storage unit along with some tools, an unused bicycle and an extra dresser. It lives in an insignificant corner of my life - eclipsed by the heaviness of the very small box in my heart.
The very small box had won. Again.
With little else to loose and everything to gain, the very small box had to be opened if the heart was going to survive. Or was it going to win this final battle too?
Much thought, and prayer, and meditation was exhausted on the very small box. Finally, in tears late one night, I opened it, and it was found to be empty.
But I've neglected to mention the very small box that I kept in my heart. A very small box can't contain much, right? It certainly couldn't contain anything important in the light of the wonderful shoebox I'd filled, I thought. So, Of course I didn't want to empty the contents of the very small, but very flawed, box into the contents of this perfect shoebox. It would ruin the whole thing, I thought.
I was right, and I was so wrong. I had hoped that the very small box would eventually die of neglect. Instead, it festered.
I decided that I needed to open my very small box and expose its contents to the light. But I lacked the courage. Weekly, sometimes daily, I'd ponder the very small box. I'd wake up in the morning, and the very small box was the first thing on my mind. I'd dwell on it all day and begin any number of nervous habits as I meditated nonstop on the very small box.
The very small box was winning. The very small box was going to consume my life if I didn't open it and address its contents. At the same time, the shoebox was fading away like a distant crossroad in a rearview mirror. The contents of the shoebox seemed trite and meaningless with the heaviness of the very small boxes contents. If I was to embrace the shoebox and what its contents meant, I had to face the very small box and expose it.
Months passed quickly as I mustered courage slowly. The right opportunity. That's all I need, the right opportunity. I have to explain my very small box - I can't just open it for all to see. People won't understand. People won't understand.
But months turned into years and the shoebox that once held my dreams was now just full of envelopes with papers carefully folded inside. Drawings and clippings that seemed to protray a life that didn't exist. I used to have a shoebox full of dreams. Now, it seems I have a shoebox full of lies. A thick band of packing tape holds the corners together as the contents push at the walls trying to escape. The box that once held my dreams is now in a storage unit along with some tools, an unused bicycle and an extra dresser. It lives in an insignificant corner of my life - eclipsed by the heaviness of the very small box in my heart.
The very small box had won. Again.
With little else to loose and everything to gain, the very small box had to be opened if the heart was going to survive. Or was it going to win this final battle too?
Much thought, and prayer, and meditation was exhausted on the very small box. Finally, in tears late one night, I opened it, and it was found to be empty.
