I have downloaded loads of apps onto my iPhone. Most of them I use once in a while, and some of them not at all. Amongst my favorite apps is one called “Plane Finder 3D.” The opening screen is a 3D photo of the Earth, on the North/South American continents. Very quickly the screen fills with airplanes of various sizes that obliterate any view of the planet. Every little object is a plane currently in the sky. Touch any plane, and you instantly discover the airline, the flight number, the model number and manufacturer, the altitude, how long it’s been in the air, and when and where it’s landing.
No, I am not a travel agent. I’m not even an avid traveler. In fact, I think of myself, after the title of a novel by Anne Tyler, as the reluctant tourist. I love “Plane Finder 3D” because it blows my mind, every time, to look up in the air, see only clouds, and yet realize there’s something more going on high above me. There are literally thousands of airplanes in the sky at all times, 24/7. I can’t hear or see it, but it’s real. And with a little help from some extraordinary tech tools, I can get a handle on what is going on.
When we traveled last week in San Miguel Allende, Mexico, we saw beautiful gates and doors of so many shapes and sizes and colors. From the outside, they were intriguing. But what was behind those gates? One never knows. There could be a magnificent hacienda or a lush garden, a comfortable hammock and a grill, or a pile of garbage and a shack. We imagined what might be there and occasionally peaked and saw all the things I’ve described – and even more.
What’s behind the door? What’s flying 6 miles directly overhead? Who knows? It is the intrinsic mystery of existence to embrace the power of the things that are seen and those that are unseen. Each and every one of us has some doors behind which we hide things from others, and sometimes, even from ourselves.
There are times when we believe that the only thing people want to see is the superficial, the colorful door that faces the street. To show others who we really are takes the risk of vulnerability. We wonder, “Who would ever want to know who I actually am? Who would ever trust me or like me if they knew the things that scare me? Who would respect me if they knew how I struggle with addiction or anxiety, or whatever your panic button connects to…?”
The problem with the closed doors of San Miguel is all the beauty, and the pain and the “realness” of life are lost to we who stand on the outside. I’m not asking for the key to their homes or permission to enter their space – just the chance to bask in the beauty of life, piles of dirt and stone along with citrus trees and orchids. Life is so short, and we use so much energy holding the door shut.
What would happen if we, somehow, dared to open the door? As Brené Brown teaches, If we’re going to find our way back to each other, vulnerability is going to be that path. We want to be with you and across from you. And we just want, for ourselves and the people we care about and the people we work with, to dare greatly. When you click on a little airplane in “Plane Finder3D”, there are few secrets. The plane is essentially stating: “Here I am, this is where I’ve been, and this is where I’m going, and I’m even going to tell you how I’m getting there.” I know. It’s simplistic. But the thing is, every one of us has an origin story. And each one of us has a thought or two about where we want to go before the story is over.
Open the door. Tell your story. Share your heart and soul. Dare to be seen.
Before Shabbat 