Doors open onto our homes, our cars, places of work, recreation, worship, stores, and other institutions; their variety reflects the imagination of the contractor: some hinged, some folding, others sliding, and still others rotating up and over, and most with locks. Crossing their threshold imperceptibly alters our energy.

The walls of Egyptian tombs in the Nile Valley depict the earliest reproductions of both the single and double doors, replete with symbols demarcating the sacred from the profane. Later, ornamental doors were found on mosques, monasteries, cathedrals, and temples, orienting the worshiper toward its mysteries.

Outside the precincts of sacred places, the doors of our homes are also sacred. Our choice keeps some inside; others, without.

Yet, another door lies closer to home, the door to our hearts; its challenge is to work with its promptings:  pause before opening it before whoever or whatever attracts. Then, discernment follows with questions: Who will benefit? What will I learn if I act? Or give in? Do lesser motives obscure its toxicity? Is neediness demanding to be satiated? Perhaps “No” is the wisest response when clarity is an issue.

Such practice deepens humility and opens the psyche to spiritual guidance, without which we stagnate.  Thus, we thrive in our flawed humanness and bring our unique gifts to fruition among others—the purpose of our existence, so I learned long ago but still slip up.