Sandbox Writing Challenge – The Door and Beyond

Enticing possibilities  is what Lady Calen gives to us from her wonderful realm, Impromptu Promptlings.  We are asked “What is behind this door that you want?”

Sandbox Door

Forget what’s behind the door. I want the door itself! That’s gorgeous. I love old wooden structures, and the hardware of the doorknob and the intricate carving on it and the plate! And the key which will open it, is surely one (no, make that TWO) of the fabulous old skeleton keys.

So I’m thinking, if I take the door off the hinges, I’ll get a look at what’s behind it, right? Then I can decide if what I thought was in it was worth all the breaking and entering LOL

Okay, so now that’s out of the way. Oddly the first thing I thought of when I imagined something behind the door I might want, was all the food I’m no longer able to eat. Weird, right? I just realized that all of the food that I LOVE is no longer on the available menu in my world.

I think I’m getting tired of having to come up with something I actually hunger for, to cook. Nothing seems to come to mind. Meanwhile, Q can eat whatever he wants. Of course, I have to cook it for him, so maybe, what I’d like to be behind that door is a cook! One to do all the drudgery of planning and making meals, not just for one, but for two people with two very different tastes in cuisine.

Yeah, that’s the ticket.

Now had I continued reading – a really bad habit I have, unfortunately – I’d have seen in the next part the suggestion:

Imagine having the key.

Geeze, here I was thinking that part two would be next week. Harumph.

What is stopping you from opening the door?

Well, two minutes later, and I’m answering a comment in my blog, and it hits me that what’s stopping me is the goblin mud!

So imagine this:
It’s 1998, and the Berkshires is a great place to spend a week, away from the maddening crowd. On the deep forested trails, I can walk between the various places.

Rowe Trail

This one takes me from the Great House (main meeting hall and dinning room), down through the path which passes Grandmother Tree. I stop and rest my hand on Her gnarled trunk, and give thanks to Her for listening as I pour out my thoughts to Her. The scent in the woods is piney, and the air is warm, yet shaded, and I feel lovely. My mind leisurely meanders between soaking up the sweet ambiance of the campus, and the myriad seminars which have brought me places in my world that are thought provoking, and gives me the opportunity to explore without having to necessarily be anywhere, unless I choose to be there.

Earlier in the morning, of the second day, we gather together as a Great Council, and listen as we’re guided to look into our hearts and think of that which is keeping us back from moving forward on our inner journey. In turn, each of us gets up and walks to the center of the room, kneeling down before two bowls. Instructed, I push my fingers into one, holding a rather large glop of mud. I close my eyes, and feel the way the gooey wet earth gloms onto me, bringing me to the sensation of how something in my life holds me, in a similar fashion from breaking free and doing what I need to do for myself, and my growth. Words begin to form from thoughts of the things which make me feel as stuck in my life, as my hands feel encased by the saturated soil. I hear the words floating out into the room, and sense that I’m not just speaking, but allowing shackles to open and set me free. I feel myself rising up, to full kneeling, and hear myself declaring, “Enough is enough of this goblin mud!” My arms rise, and I hear the sucking of the mud as I wrestle it to get away. Free finally, from it, I plunge my hands into a cool bath of water, and begin to wash the mud from my fingers, and the palm and the back of my hand. A sister hands me a clean towel when I’m finished, and I thankfully dry them. The room is filled with clapping, and encouraging words. As I stand, I walk slowly to a table and collect the special gifts for my medicine bundle. Returning to my seat, I feel sparklingly free.
Standing there, with Grandmother Tree, I have that rare moment of feeling that I could do this for the rest of my life. A week is just never enough.


Thinking that it is the Goblin Mud which keeps me back, I must figure out which part of me is the mud holding hostage. That’s the thing.

And so it goes, on and on.