Heidi and the too small box

So, there’s this box. I’m not sure who determined its dimensions or why it has to be box and not a sphere or a freeform blob. But there it is. From the day that you were born, you were expected to fit into the box. As an infant, there was plenty of room. You could fit comfortably in the box along with all of your thoughts and actions. You could scream and cry and crap your pants and it was all ok, because it all fit in the box.

As you grew, there became less and less space in the box. Your body still fit, perhaps some occasional loud laughing or temper tantrums, but every day, someone expected you to reign in more and more of your behavior. Don’t run in the house. Use your inside voice. Keep your hands to yourself. Suck it up. Quit acting like a child. Be seen not heard. Stop crying or I’ll just keep spanking you. Maybe my box was smaller than some, larger than others, but we all knew we were supposed to pull our arms and legs in close, duck our heads and just fit in.

It became clear to me, that I was struggling to accomplish this task. I wondered if there was something wrong with my box, or if it was the wrong box entirely. I would wrap my arms around my bent legs and will myself to fit. Stay in the box, just stay in the box, if you do nothing else today, by God, just stay in the box!!!!

Boom.

It always happened like that. Try as I might, I couldn’t keep myself inside. I would lose my grip on my legs and they would shoot out the bottom of the box. Standing to collect myself, my head would pop out of the top. Frantic, scrambling to get back inside, my arms would flail out. Everyone would see. They all looked at me through their peep holes as they sat comfortably in their seemingly appropriately sized boxes. I could hear the murmur as they all wondered, “What is wrong with that girl? Doesn’t she know she’s outside of her box?”

A teacher, an aunt, a concerned adult would finally come over and say, “Honey, you need to get back in your box.”

“I know, I know, I know!! But it doesn’t fit!”

Eventually, I got stronger. I could hold myself in the box for longer periods of time. But there was even less extra room than before. All my thoughts echoed around and the volume increased exponentially. Then, as every muscle began to shake with fatigue, the vibrations of body and sound were too much for my ragged, little box. Unlike the slow unfurling of my youth, my quivering adult self would explode out the seams in every direction. There was no time, no hope that I could slink back into my box unnoticed. A radiant ball of energy would rip the box to shreds and I would stand naked, fully exposed, no doubt in anyone’s mind that I did not fit.

I keep piecing my box back together; wrapping it with duct tape, fortifying the seams with leather and steel. But the result is always the same. The longer I stay in the box, the bigger the explosion when I can’t contain myself anymore.

The question that strikes me now: how do I get rid of the box? How do I find a community of others who couldn’t stay confined to their boxes either? Is there a way that we can all live as beautiful, radiant balls of creative energy without the world around us telling us constantly that we need to get back in our boxes?

I think that modern society has made it extremely difficult to shed our boxes. I think that this is a tragedy. I think that if we were to come together and let our collective light shine, we could do something really beautiful. We could shine brighter and brighter until we became one with each other, one with nature, one with God… a perfect manifestation of the human spirit.

But for today, I will fold myself back up into my tiny box. I will sit quietly and try to quell the vibrations that threaten to burst out. For today, I live in this world of gainful employment and fiscal responsibility. Today, I live in a world where it is far more important to fit in than to see the infinite possibility of your unleashed potential.