The Temple of a Thousand Doors

Did you know that you should always hang a horseshoe prongs up, like a cup?  It's true.  If you hang it upside down, all of the luck will drain out of the bottom.

Two intertwined horseshoes are tattooed on my left ankle. They face up, still brimming with liquid gold luck.

I'm playing hooky.  I'm cuddled into the corner of a local coffee shop with a guilty chai clutched in my hand and a furtive pressure in my solar plexus.  Like I have skipped school and I am likely to be caught at any moment.  I'm supposed to be at a meeting, but the sun was shining.  Do you know how long it's been since the world felt warm and light?  It is so hard to parcel out all of my kids for two hours. The trading. The negotiations.  The logistics.  I sat in the driver's seat, free for 120 brief minutes, and I couldn't force myself to drive to a preschool officer's training.

It's not like me.  I'm never flaky. I never miss or falter or fail to show up.  I always follow through. I always meet my obligations, imagined or real.  I did every last errand I've been putting off for weeks before I came here. Of course, I did. And then I let myself slip in the door and I have 51 minutes left. 

Have you ever read The Neverending Story by Michael Ende? You should. It's lovely.  But, here's the important part, at least as I remember it across the decades.  In the beginning, the young boy-hero is trapped in a magical pyramid called the Temple of a Thousand Doors.  There is no way out; it's an endless maze of rooms with multiple doors.  Unless.  Unless you can form in your heart a true desire.  A heart wish.  A goal.  Then slowly, slowly, slowly, the temple shows you the way.  If I remember correctly, the boy-hero wanders for a long time before he realizes that he wants to see a particular girl again. He chooses a door because it reminds him of a necklace she wore.  Each decision is no longer daunting because his heart wish guides him. The painting over one door is the color of her eyes.  You see?  Suddenly, he is through a door and out in the bright sun with the green, green grass under his feet and she is there.

Oh, I know, the parable is obvious, but it has always bothered me. Is it the wish itself that gets you out or the attainability of the wish? Focusing on your heart's desire can make the way clear, yes, but our deepest desires lead us in a lot of directions. Rich experience tells me that they aren't always the way out.

There are things we can't have, after all, no matter how much we want them.

I want things.  Many, many things, but these things of which I speak are secret and sacrosanct because I want them just for me. Is that allowed? For mothers? I think it is.

I want to attend a foster parent informational meeting.

I want to get a masters in social work or counseling.

I want to finish the third draft of my novel and send it out to agents.

I have four minutes left.  Do you want to hear the funny, painful, silly secret? I won't tell you what I really want. Because then you'd know and all of the magic would drain out of the bottom of the world.  But, I will whisper this:  I think I'm going to have to let it go, if I want to get out.