I've spent the vast majority of my life (at least since my teenage years) with a reputation for being cold, stand-off-ish, hard to get close to. I was never a truly angry guy. I was actually someone who enjoyed a laugh as well as the next person. But I was impossible to get close to. I put great effort into building my emotional "wall" high and thick. I envisioned it as a medieval castle with a deep moat, high walls and good store of whatever provisions my heart and soul would need to survive. I was in a great defensive position, I thought, to never be hurt by caring about others or loving someone or even allowing anyone else to love me. My one fatal flaw? I forgot to put a door in the wall. It gets awful lonely in a big old castle all by yourself. After awhile I didn't even have to repel attempts at breaching the wall as I'd built up a reputation for being who I was. No one wanted inside my wall anymore.
Eventually, I began training in aikido. The wall was still just as strong as ever. I trained without really caring if I got injured. Hell, I could take it, right? It was just physical pain after all and I had great defenses against that. One night the first crack appeared in the bricks in my wall. I was working a technique and it just wasn't working well. My uke, a higher ranking student, kept working with me until I got the understanding well enough to put him in serious pain. He already knew the technique so taking that pain for me to learn it really made me re-think everything I believed about interpersonal dealings. Is it, perhaps, that ability to experience a little pain in the moment in hopes of gaining the greater joy in the long run that makes life worth living?
Well, that's how the wall began to get modified. Oh, I still have the wall. It's just as high and thick as it's ever been. The difference now is that I have put in a few windows, a gate and a drawbridge. What's the point of all this rambling? Aside from it being a lazy Saturday morning I just wanted to share something of myself in hopes that a few of you would read it and maybe one of you would have that moment of clarity to understand that the wall (or whatever you call your emotional defense) is a fine thing but you must put in a door somewhere or you are just as trapped on the inside as you have locked others outside.
"Nice wall, where's the door?"
Eventually, I began training in aikido. The wall was still just as strong as ever. I trained without really caring if I got injured. Hell, I could take it, right? It was just physical pain after all and I had great defenses against that. One night the first crack appeared in the bricks in my wall. I was working a technique and it just wasn't working well. My uke, a higher ranking student, kept working with me until I got the understanding well enough to put him in serious pain. He already knew the technique so taking that pain for me to learn it really made me re-think everything I believed about interpersonal dealings. Is it, perhaps, that ability to experience a little pain in the moment in hopes of gaining the greater joy in the long run that makes life worth living?
Well, that's how the wall began to get modified. Oh, I still have the wall. It's just as high and thick as it's ever been. The difference now is that I have put in a few windows, a gate and a drawbridge. What's the point of all this rambling? Aside from it being a lazy Saturday morning I just wanted to share something of myself in hopes that a few of you would read it and maybe one of you would have that moment of clarity to understand that the wall (or whatever you call your emotional defense) is a fine thing but you must put in a door somewhere or you are just as trapped on the inside as you have locked others outside.
"Nice wall, where's the door?"