Story
Walking the Pickets Previous Story
Freedom always arrives with constraints and parameters that we create and accept.
In the heart: an overwhelming desire to leave, to break away, to free myself from limitation and constraint. My frustration increases, and my dissatisfaction grows. I yearn for freedom from the marching impositions that close in upon me, day after day, night after sleepless night. I want out!!
This story is set in an ordinary front yard. On a quiet, tree-lined street, a wood-shingled house dreams within a white picket fence clad in ivy. What more could anybody want? Only this: Out. The gate swings open as if to taunt me. Standing with my shoes poked barely over the fence line, I pause. A simple step, and I am gone; but my feet don’t move. My eyes scan the neighborhood, and I realize that just beyond my gate is another fence, and another gate. Outside the yard, in uncounted repetition, fence after fence, gate after gate. Freedom is an illusion. We stand always within self-made boundaries. There is no outside. The edges define who I am, and everything I need to learn and grow exists within these edges already.
Days later, I am poised on tiptoe with my arms outstretched, playing a self-created game of balance and daring. The fence that held me has become a source of challenge and excitement. The pickets, the edges that limited my freedom, are my foil for unlimited expression. My self-chosen boundaries offer a place to balance, to push against, to learn more about myself. In choosing not to break away, I experience a break-through. Walking on tiptoe, high atop the picket fence.
You may also want to visit our other websites:
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
New Music - Virtual CD
Celebrate the fenceline
This story is set in an ordinary front yard. On a quiet, tree-lined street, a wood-shingled house dreams within a white picket fence clad in ivy. What more could anybody want? Only this: Out. The gate swings open as if to taunt me. Standing with my shoes poked barely over the fence line, I pause. A simple step, and I am gone; but my feet don’t move. My eyes scan the neighborhood, and I realize that just beyond my gate is another fence, and another gate. Outside the yard, in uncounted repetition, fence after fence, gate after gate. Freedom is an illusion. We stand always within self-made boundaries. There is no outside. The edges define who I am, and everything I need to learn and grow exists within these edges already.
Days later, I am poised on tiptoe with my arms outstretched, playing a self-created game of balance and daring. The fence that held me has become a source of challenge and excitement. The pickets, the edges that limited my freedom, are my foil for unlimited expression. My self-chosen boundaries offer a place to balance, to push against, to learn more about myself. In choosing not to break away, I experience a break-through. Walking on tiptoe, high atop the picket fence.
You may also want to visit our other websites:
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
New Music - Virtual CD
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