My First Choice

I distinctly remember them, their tall rectangular facades were greeting me like old friends, epic and brilliant in frame. My eyes followed their folding wooden layers that flowed down their sides like long winding rivers. Where was I? Why was I here? I couldn't remember, all I knew was that I was somewhere important, doing something important. My surroundings at that time escape me, it's not that there was nothing, but moreover that it's easier to remember nothing. Maybe I was in a white room, or a grey room? I can't remember, honestly, it could have been no room at all, the only thing that sticks out in my memory is those two doors.

My grandpa once told me, God bless him and his infinite peasant-like wisdom, that "The world is nothing but choices, built on each other like bricks for a castle." I felt like I was looking at the castle, those two doors somehow seemed to capture whatever it was my bricks were building up to. I didn't know how, or why, but they seemed to speak to me through this instinctual channel, like calling me by my very ancient ties to this earth. It formed this feeling in my stomach that was an intense mix of both anxiety and excitement, swirling around in me and forming this new feeling that I can only describe as destiny.

Again, I feel like this is hard to grasp but vital to understand for my situation. I didn't really know what was going on, but felt like I did. I guess I can relate it to when you're dreaming, and nothing adds up at all but somehow your cloudy dream-state mind says it's okay, this is how it's supposed to be. Don't worry about thinking on it. That's where I was, in that atmosphere, picking a door.

That is what I had to do, I had to pick one of the doors, I knew that much for sure. I had to make a choice that for some inexplicable reason was the most important one I would ever make. I remember sitting there contemplating which one to choose, and why it was better than the other. 'Well, the left looks cleaner, more polished. Its doorknob is a little shinier and frankly is just a better door.' 'Well the right has some grit to it, like it's seen a side of life that the left door hasn't.'

I soon realized that this wasn't the way to choose between the doors, though I secretly hoped it would be as easy as that, a visible cue, an explicit hint as to the right choice. I instead started to figure out that it was instead something much deeper than that. Like I said before these doors were speaking to me, saying something in an ocean of noise and clouds. I had to listen to them, to feel them on a level that I've never felt anything before.

What that entailed I didn't exactly know, I started by trying to audibly converse with the doors, in hopes that it would motivate them to speak louder. I asked them about their opinions about themselves and opinions about the other door, then I moved to more personal stuff. What was your childhood like, was it typical for that of a door? I sadly reached no answer to any of those questions.

I then remembered hearing my sister talk about meditating, and how she believed it channeled something greater. I thought if there was any time to try it out, now would be it. So, in that room without description, and in front of those doors beyond it, I crossed my legs and retreated to my mind. I had never meditated before, but I always heard that it was a very personal thing, where you leave your brain alone and try to be still -- so that's what I did.

It was a rocky start, as I imagine most meditation is. I was fidgety, moving around and thinking about this or that, my thoughts were like papers scattering and zipping around in a strong wind. But, after a while, it started to calm. My brain slowed and I felt as if I walked through a door, entering a cold room where my eyes felt heavy and my heart still. I wasn't tired, but just still, my mind was in a frozen state of calm, nothing moved that didn't have to.

It was on this mental mountain that I found the voices of the doors. They were these nebulous, ancient things that didn't have any audible qualities, but I can only describe as voices. There was a prose and cadence to them that was beautiful and also overwhelming, they spoke to me like I was their kin.

The left door explained itself as a descendant of the cerebral type. It told its story and belief in character, how consistency was the most important virtue and how the world all made sense if you just tried. It was enlightening, I felt empowered by it, I felt like I had the capabilities to choose whatever door I wanted.

The right door explained itself as cut from a different cloth. It was real and wise, and explained how it had seen the world, and things beyond, about how it saw everything under the same light and that in the end it was all the same. The right door believed itself to be unique among doors, and the truest of spirits. 'Nothing can be known without try', it told me, 'and that is the greatest thing you can do.'

I finished my meditation by thanking the doors for their explanations, and for the wonderful conversation. I then remained seated and reflected on what I had left to do -- I had to choose a door. I was ready, I understood my choice, thanks to the left door, and felt strong, thanks to the right. I knew that whatever decision I made that it would be the right one, and that down the road if I looked back and saw the doors again, they would greet me as friends.

So that's what I did, I chose the door that I felt was correct, and it was. I know that sounds strange, as all of this story is quite strange, but I promise you that it is how it is supposed to be. I picked the correct door.

Now, as I look back on that choice, and what it taught me, I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I never stopped to listen to the doors, or maybe only listened to one. I think that's what made the decision so important to my life, not that the choice itself was grand, but the path to it was pure. I venture to say that it was the very first choice I had ever made in my life.