In and out of Boxes

When it comes to being a writer, I’ve mentioned before how I like to answer the prompts because they help me to think outside of my writing box… write about things I normally wouldn’t, or in poetry or other forms that I am not used to doing. I try to stretch myself as a writer, so that I can develop a deeper skill and literary depth, for writing that which is in my heart.

Thinking outside the box has been an adage used for far greater a time, than even I can remember. It’s a fantastic analogy for more than just writing, as it comes into play in every corner of our internal processing. In every part of us there are boxes of beliefs, boxes of opinions, boxes of hurts, boxes of memories, and boxes of behaviors… all of which eventually get full, or sometimes hold nothing at all. What do we do with them all, when there is no more room to even cross the floor, without walking on or stepping in differing boxes to get there?

On the flip side, what if the room were vacant with no boxes at all? Humans need boxes to navigate the crossing of the room to the doorway in the corner.

Boxes are just boxes… benign… neither good or bad… just useful in sorting through life’s experiences. What we do with the box is a whole different ball of wax. Do we seal them up with packing tape, pushing them to the sides of the room to be forgotten? What if there is something useful we may need later? Just in case, we might take a sharpie and put a label on the box like, *Remember me when you are ready to throw in the towel*. We seem to live in some of our boxes, refusing to come out and cross the floor, finding comfort and safety in the familiar surroundings of things unchanged by outside forces. The flap on these boxes are worn, tattered and torn… no longer able to be completely closed. Neither of these two extremes is very healthy.

That is where thinking outside the box comes into play… maybe even evolving into something like Navigating the Ins and Outs of Boxes. For this we need tools… mental, emotional and spiritual tools. I wandered for most of my literary life, existing for the most part, sealed inside boxes of my past… one that cannot be altered or undone, no matter how long I hid myself within those boxes.

I sort of think that our painful journey over the last 3 years, actually tore the lids off all my boxes… forcing me to come out into the light. Had things not gone badly, as they did, I would still be sitting in my recliner, there in Virginia, over 100 lbs. heavier, completely doped up on medications, and so hopelessly depressed that suicide was actually looking good, and I am not being flippant.

Fast forward to now, living the way we do and writing the way I currently have been, I can say with certainty that Brutus would not be possible, could never have been born into my imagination… were I still back there in that old recliner (box).

I like living freely… skipping from one box to another, moving items from one hidden corner, and bringing them out into the light to organize and sort through for the useful stuff. For me personally, living this way has brought that which I had sought for all my days… Joy in the Journey… I found it!