Those Darn Doors

A few months ago, I wrote these words:

Sometimes, dear friends,
when everything seems
frustratingly hopeless,
maybe we are wrong.
Not deliberately or intentionally
or even stubbornly.
But narrowly and exhaustingly.
So sometimes, dear friends,
maybe we need to step back and
reexamine things with
a fresh set of eyes and ears.

I followed these words by the lyrics of this song:

So many thoughts inside my mind
So many doubts inside my heart
I want to believe
But I don't understand your plan
I ask but it's not given to me
I seek but I do not find
The answer that I'm looking for
Must be behind the closed door
With my heart's desire
But maybe I'm wrong
Maybe I'm looking at the wrong door
Maybe I'm wrong
Maybe your will is not mine

Today on my way home, I found myself singing this song. I found myself wondering:

When are closed doors truly closed doors?
When is having a door slammed in one’s face a sign that one needs to move on?
When are closed doors obstacles that need to be opened and walked through?
When is having a door slammed in one’s face the pushback of doing something right?

I tend to be someone who faces life like this:

Cut off my ear, throw it away.
Then
Stab me in the heart and rip out its broken pieces.
Regret your words, eat them, drink them
Hate that you opened the door so
Slam it in my face.
Cut, throw, stab, rip, regret, hate, slam
The door
in my face.
It’s brown, wood.
I’m looking at it while waiting
wounded
For you to open it back up and do it again.
Cut off my other ear.

But is this right? Is this seventy times seven? Or is this not practical after both ears are gone?

Thinking. Thinking. I’m doing some thinking…
And wondering about those darn doors.