Gestalt

Every day, I open a door. My bedroom door that I cannot close completely or I'll be stuck because the knob doesn't turn. My bathroom door that doesn't latch but gets pushed open by a small, white dog as I shower. My round, orange door that separates me from the rest of the world. I like to say that I acknowledge the doors--their frames, their quirks, the hinges, the locks, the brass, the crystalline knobs, the way their bottoms scrape against carpet. Doors are shapes with which we're familiar--they lead elsewhere and oh how cute and amusing when they lead to nowhere or some cozy space. At work, there is a door that leads to the other side of a wall that you can simply walk around in the time that it takes you to open the door. At my boyfriend's parents' house, I opened a bedroom closet that led to a Narnia that spanned into nether regions of the house I didn't know existed. When asked to imagine a door--be it in therapy or in a conference--we're expected to think about change, opportunity, etc.

I once read a book that began with a story of a man who was awakened in the middle of the night by a knock on his door. He answered the door and it was a stranger who claimed he was on a scavenger hunt. He needed a piece of wood about 3 by 7 feet. He needed it immediately--and was willing to pay big money. But the man--groggy with sleepiness--had no idea where to find a piece of wood that size at that time of the night.

Meanwhile, his hand was on the doorknob of his wooden door.

January is almost over and my bird-watching has been quiet...not-so-birdy. Blame the weather, blame my boots crunching in the snow, blame my dog running swift amongst the black trees, and heck, blame my terrible ability to bird. I recently picked up a book and read the following:

"The word 'gestalt' means 'the whole the is greater than the sum of its parts'...with experience, a birder builds up a mental image of each species that incorporates all aspects of appearance and actions to create an impression of the overall character of that species. At this level our bird identification technique approaches the way we identify our human friends, by indescribable subtleties of facial features, body proportions, and behavior."

-David Allen Sibley

So, the whole is more than the sum of its parts. The door is more than just the shape you move back and forth when entering and exiting various domains. Why don't we see it as a board of wood that we could give to the scavenger? Why don't we see beyond its cliches of opportunity, change, crossroads, etc? Sometimes, people who trust me talk about their doors. How God closes one and opens another. And in my head, I'm thinking you can open it yourself, you know.

But let's go beyond that. I am thinking about the parts that make that whole--our lover's face, that cute smirk, your best friend's gait, the way your crush twists her necklace around her fingers when she talks to you, your grandfather's shuffle to the dinner table. Everything becomes familiar to us through shapes. You'd recognize their shapes and movements amongst other shapes and movements. And what is more intimate than that?

Ever since reading about gestalt, I've been intrigued by it. From murmurations of starlings to every-day logos we see advertised to us on a daily basis--it's everywhere, enticing us, reminding us of how shapes stand alone so well while coming together to make a recognizable whole.

Like this friend I made on a snowy hike not long ago. While hiking with Silas, I looked beyond the trail and saw this monster smiling at me. I bushwhacked my way to him to see him up close. It is the up-closeness that teaches you the parts of that whole. The snow, the twigs, the branches all coming together in such a way to create a creepy surprise in the forest.

I'm very tired. I've been very tired all week. Things have been a whirlwind at work. I don't want to say that I am stressed or anxious; however, it is a time where the expectations of me as a part of a whole is more demanding and I don't want to let the whole down. I am a door jamb hoping to allow the door to swing smoothly. I am a door knob, hoping to appease whoever is trying to get through. I am a door frame, wide and open, allowing everyone to move inward, outward, or to stay there, lean against me.

And the door, well, it is simply a part of another bigger whole.