Windows, Doors, & Walls - 065
Once in a Lifetime
This past month, we drove over seven hours for a 2 minute experience.
And it was undoubtedly worth it.
Lauren and I took Golda up to Syracuse to see the totality of the solar eclipse. We joined a few hundred people on the lawn of the Museum of Science and Technology, donned our special dark eclipse glasses and stared up at the sun for about 90 minutes. But for two of those minutes, the entire sun was blocked by the moon and we experienced a surreal midnight in the middle of the afternoon.
Streetlights and signs turned on.
Everyone cheered.
Owls hooted.
We invited friends to join, but to them it seemed overhyped. All of that for 2 minutes?
There are a lot of once-in-a-lifetime experiences that are within reach, we just have to put in some effort.
Traveling to that faraway place.
Reconnecting with someone special after years.
Starting that project and carving out regular time to really, finally, actually get it done.
But we don't have forever.
Windows are closing. Locked doors become walls.
This month I want to explore the opportunities and gateways to new chapters, and the barriers in the way.
Well don’t just stand there.
The door's open.
Before and during the total Solar Eclipse, Syracuse, NY April 8, 2024
Cracks in the Wall
I try my best to take care of my body– I exercise, stretch, and moisturize. But this month, I feel old.
About six weeks ago, I twisted my ankle playing basketball and it's still tender. And then recently on a hike, I had Abe on my shoulders. I bent down for a moment and threw out my back. I was out for a full week.
My knees crack when I go up the stairs.
I find new wrinkles and spots on my face all the time.
It's like my body is falling apart.
I remember my grandfather, who lived to 97, saying that every day he would wake up any something would hurt. That's just what it means to get old.
Our house is also 97 years old, actually.
We're about to put in a new kitchen and I recently walked our contractor through our house. I pointed out these cracks in the walls and across the molding on the doorways. I was worried that our house was falling down, (or at least falling apart).
But it turns out they're just seams in the plaster. They're not cracks in the foundation, they're just on the surface. "It's a normal sign of an aging house that's well lived in," he assured. Nothing to worry about.
Now when I look in the mirror, that's what I see.
Cracks and wrinkles, spots and all. Normal sign of an aging body that's well lived in.
Nothing to worry about.
Doors of Identity
For most of my life, I've considered myself a visual artist.
I have a degree in Fine Arts. My first job was as an art director. For a long time it's how I introduced myself. My parents' house is filled with my old drawings and paintings.
Actually, I imagine our identity is like a house.
When we're kids, it's barely one room; modest. But with each new skill, interest, relationship, commitment, and chapter, we put on an addition. A new part of ourselves is built. New spaces to explore and new ways to enter. As we get older, we demolish old parts of ourselves and create new doors that are less public–the obsessions and the private stories.
Each space has a door.
And when we meet people for the first time, we let them in that door.
We all have a single thing that people know us by, at least at first. As we get closer to them, the inner hallways and rooms start connecting.
What's interesting to me is that some of my closest friends don't know about the other doors. I've played piano for 33 years and I've never played in front of my friend Alex.
I think of myself as a (very amateur) surfer. But I haven't owned a surfboard in 10 years and so even Lauren doesn't know that door.
For most of my life, I've introduced myself as an artist. Or designer. Never as a writer.
But here I am, sending you these emails month after month.
Maybe you came to know me first through that door.
How people see us is based on where they come in.
We get to decide which door to open first.
Nice to meet you, I'm Jake and I'm a writer.
Our Overton Windows
Ten years ago it seemed like such an unrealistic possibility and surreal joke that Donald Trump would even run for president, let alone win.
There’s a concept called "The Overton Window" which is the range of acceptable topics to the mainstream population at a given time. Some notions are just to extreme or taboo and then, with exposure, adoption, and advocacy, they become normalized.
Heliocentrism, abolishing slavery, women's suffrage, animal rights, gay marriage, climate change, universal health care or even universal basic income being a handful of examples throughout history.
What seemed unthinkable a few years, decades, or generations ago may be completely mainstream today.
The Overton window is opening.
But what I think is interesting is our own personal windows. The actions, topics, and beliefs that felt unreachable and unthinkable a few years or decades ago, now might be possible.
In my own life, I've seen new possibilities emerge.
I've met nearly a dozen friends in person after years of knowing them only online–one of them happened this month.
Staying at home and going to sleep early is actually more enjoyable than going out.
My cousin had a baby at age 49.
That despite losing my mom, finding moments of gratitude, laughter and even joy are actually abundant.
Our windows are constantly opening.
What was once unrealistic is now becoming possible.
And that for me, is a reason to be hopeful.
It’s not too late.
Opening The Door
Last week was Passover, a Jewish holiday of gratitude when we celebrate our freedom.
At our seder, we took a moment to acknowledge the 240 hostages that were taken over six months ago, those who were killed, and those still captive. "Let my people go" has never been more apropos.
As part of the seder, we are instructed to open our front door and invite Elijah to the table. In the Haftorah, the prophet Elijah is said to "restore the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents." He is present at every bris and baby naming to teach us that every individual has a role in restoring love to hearts across the world.
At a time of what feels like rising hatred and divisiveness in the world, we open the door in the hopes of restoring love.
Thanks for taking the time with me today.
I'd love to hear your thoughts, disagreements, and reflections.
For you, my door is always open.
May we all keep our doors open for each other.
Refrigeyalater,
Jake
Knock knock. Me again.
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The Email Refrigerator is a monthly delivery of essays, poetry, imagery, and thoughts, written and curated by Jake Kahana. Why a refrigerator? Well, it's where we look for snacks, a little freshness, and where we hang the latest, greatest work. And besides, "newsletter" sounds like spam.