The Grand Experiment

She was born into this room – 12 by 14 – this closet filled with only a broom, a toilet and a sink. She didn’t know what to think as she aged, but the room was all she ever knew – so she accepted it.

No windows to look through – just 4 walls, a ceiling and a floor – oh and then there was that door – which never opened – the opportunity to explore never given… and she never missed it.

Each time she awoke from sleep a meal would be waiting by that door. It smelled good, so by instinct she’d eat – never thinking to ask for more. Was it day or was it night? She had no concept of time. When it wasn’t dark – it was light – when the tungsten filament was set ablaze by electricity and the bulb came on. Even then she had nowhere to go in the small room with a ceiling and a floor. So she made up an imaginary friend out of the broom to explore the small expanse.

Isn’t this what we do? Create imaginary things to compensate for a reality we’ve never known?

Our little girl sits all alone.

Periodically, crayons and paper await when she wakes – sitting right there by her food tray. She picks them up and doesn’t know what she should make because she’s never seen beyond what’s in the room. So she draws the broom and the toilet and the sink.

She’s never dreamed that she could fly… because her eyes have never seen the clouds, nor have they seen a bird cut the sky.

She has no idea of her ability. She’s forced to know only what she can see. Underdeveloped…
All she’s ever known is 4 walls – a ceiling and a floor – oh, and don’t forget that door which never opens… at least while she’s awake. Unexplored opportunities – so even in her dreams she’s informed by cramp surroundings.

Could you blame her for never doing something great? How could you unless you were compassionless with a heart that’s irate – full of hate – a lack of love. You can’t expect her to soar high above when all she knows is the ceiling – can’t expect her to go far when she’s surrounded by 4 walls cold to the touch – can’t look for her to dig deep when all she knows is what’s beneath her feet… the concrete floor that’s hard.

Her spirit is frail and her body is weak. She’s never known what it’s like to be strong and to run full speed through a stormy wind – she has no concept of wind or storms – forced to live in a comfort zone that’s anything but soft and cuddly.

There are 2 sides to her existence – on the other side of the door of this grand experiment. These 2 sides do similar things but for different reasons – like her daily feeding. One gives food to give her strength to break free – but the other does so to keep her in complacency. One creates the room to cause a fire within her heart to rise while the eyes of the other lurking to and fro perverts things so she won’t ever grow – giving her just enough so she’ll never see the truth just beyond the walls that would cause her to break free.

But then it happens. After so many long days and years the heart within her chest finally kindles a faint spark! Questions begin to arise – ones of ultimate concern – like who made the broom and where does the food come from? Up till now she didn’t care but she asks herself “Is there more out there?”

Beyond 4 walls, a ceiling and the floor, oh and don’t forget the door… Is she really alone? Is the world then this creation of concrete that surrounds her?

So finally she takes her hands – balls them into fists and starts to beat against the barrier that has been her life thus far. The spark within turns into a flame that spreads as more cells of her heart ignite in seemingly spontaneous combustion!

But the concrete is too thick and never gives way – with the pounding of each fist, hours pass but the wall never sways… Without the proper tools she’ll never know freedom at all…she leaves tears on the wall while remaining bound by present rules that govern her life.

Exhausted, she drops to the floor sobbing with her back to the door. Her lungs beg for more as her eyes begin to close. As the last shreds of consciousness begin to fade, being overtaken by the wave of sleep, she says a simple prayer – not sure to who but nonetheless the words roll off her lips… “Is anyone out there?”

Then darkness engulfs her from the outside in as the filament within the bulb arcs for the last time and the absence of light surrounds her… yet the flame within her heart steadily rises.

When her eyes open again – hours have passed. She awakes to her imaginary friend broom lying beside her, reminding her of how she tried to pound her way out – but there’s something different – so different she almost misses it disguised in the same surroundings she’s seen for years.
A thinly sliced ray of light cuts a pathway across the dark floor as her back still faces the door. She turns over in amazement at what she’s never seen as it comes from the door… now open.

Slowly she rises – cautious and afraid, yet filled with an unknown excitement. She’s not sure what to make of things as she hesitantly brings her hand up into the light and twiddles her fingers in it’s rays and watches in awe as particles of dust dance around in mid air. Her mind is full of fright but her heart is set ablaze – so she opens the door and steps out into the unknown.

A solitary light shows the way faintly down a distant corridor that stretches before her. With each step she follows the line that turns through another door – darkness is all around her now but she is not afraid – her heart is set ablaze – as she makes her way to the large gated door, where cold steel intersects solid stone, and rays of piercing light surround it’s dark perimeter.

Intuitively… she knows this door is the way out… out from what she’s always known to be true – out into something she’s never even imagined – somehow she knows that whatever waits on the other side of this large dark door is much bigger than anything she could conjure up on her own.

Her fear melts away into eager anticipation as she looks around in the darkness, seeing the path which led her to this point, highlighted by a single ray of light – no one comes – not that she would know what another human being looked like, having never seen another soul, nor ever her own face in the mirror.

She turns back to the door that now stands before her - all concentration on the knob as she slowly grabs it within her small, soft hands.

She opens the door expecting wonder and awe, but is confronted by great fright and a misery that’s raw, as her eyes begin to sting – having never seen direct sunlight – so with a scream, like the yelp of a hurt dog she’s never heard or seen, she slams the door shut and runs back through the dark hallway to that closet room of 12 by 14.

Taking the broom up into her arms, passing by the toilet and sink for the corner where she huddles in her own sweat – in her familiar surroundings and heavy breathing – rubbing her eyes which still hurt somewhat… as the ray of light from the room’s opened door cuts across her face – illuminating one eye…

Could you blame her for retreating? Faced with an unknown she’s never seen, never been prepared for? How could you unless you were compassionless with a heart that’s irate, full of hate – a lack of love. You can’t expect her to soar high above when all she’s known was the ceiling – can’t expect her to go far when she’s surrounded by walls cold to the touch – can’t expect her to dig deep when all she’s known is the concrete beneath her feet…

But things are different now – because she has experienced more – it’s just taking her mind time to process what she’s never known – so she remains huddled on the familiar floor with her back against 2 walls – but still her heart’s been set ablaze and her eyes have begun to see through the haze that’s been her life thus far.

Will she endure the pain of new things unfounded? Or will she remain where she thinks she’s safe in surroundings she’s grown comfortable in – allowing the fire in her heart and mind to be extinguished?

To blame her now you could… because she knows more than before – although she doesn’t yet know what she knows… Blame her if you will if she chooses to remain still and close the door to the 12 by 14 closet room with the hard floor and 4 walls, the broom, sink and toilet – if she chooses to remain inside the windowless room – never knowing what it’s like to experience a bird cutting the sky or the color of clouds or the feeling of the wind moving across her skin – never knowing what it’s like to be strong – running full speed in the midst of a stormy gale… if she makes the choice to fail… then leave her in her wallow…

Hours pass as the young girl bites her upper lip and puts down the broom – slowly inching her way towards the door – moving across the hard concrete floor. She sticks her head out and looks around – then moves to the sound of her feet on concrete as she makes her way down the familiar dark path and around the twisted straight finding herself standing before the gate with piercing light. Her heartbeat is heard in her ears – pounding so hard as she reaches up again and allows the sun’s light to come in.

Her eyes wince in pain, but this time she doesn’t run but uses her hands as a shade gritting her teeth and eventually the blaring white nothingness which surrounds her gives way to colors and textures that defy her description. Her sight now adjusted – she stands in awe of the blue expanse and white puffy things way up high. She steps through the gated doorway, letting the steel slip from her fingers… Never thinking to look back because of all the wonder that now stands before her. And it’s at this moment that she remembers her pounding fists on the hard concrete wall that never gave way and she realizes that she’s somehow free – free to see things she’s never even imagined and to dream dreams that were impossible before.

From the book: Transition: Breaking Through the Barriers, Pg. 208
Written by Allen Paul Weaver III
Published by: IUniverse June 2006