Recently my therapist guided me through a particular meditation exercise that was incredibly powerful. She referred to it as "The Corridor".
Basically what she did was have me close my eyes while focusing on my breath as she painted a picture of a vast and deep hallway. This hallway was populated with endless closed doors on my left and my right. Many of the doors were far beyond my reach because I just hadn't lived long enough to walk by them. Yet many doors were behind me. Each door represented something very personal. There was a door that represented specific people, events, traumas and more.
She had me approach a door she labeled the "fear" door. And began to ask me what the door looked like. This was the part where I got to interact and I gave each detail an image the moment I was asked it. So for me the fear door was off white, cracked and looked like porcelain. The door handle resembled an egg shell and just as fragile. As I opened the "fear" door I noticed it was light and brittle. Inside the door it was inky black.
When asked what I wanted to do next I then reached for a light switch. Upon turning the light on I notice the light wasn't a switch but a string dangling from a single bulb that swung in the middle of the now lit room behind the cracked porcelain door. The walls and floor were naked 2 by 4's and the floor was a single particle board between to beems. On this particle board was a sleeping bag. The ceiling was exposed and charred and I could see outside. The stars were bright and the moon was full. This room was my once my actual attic bedroom when I was ten years old.
At this point my therapist guided me to leave this room and to begin to think of the safest place possible. Not far up on the right I saw a red door. It was a familiar and peaceful door. I knew already what was behind this door! When I pulled it open the thick smell of pancakes filled the air. It was my Papa Neil's house and I could see him through the doorway sitting on the couch. As he took notice of me I was a ten year old boy and my Papa rushes to give me a hug. Soon afterwards he piled a plate high of delicious right off the grill pancakes. It was clear to me that this red door was going to be my safe place, my visual inner light that we were going to use to process our work ahead.
While I understand this is a deeply personal experience I challenge you to think on this particular metaphor of "The Corridor". What does your fear door hold? And even more importantly what is behind your "safe" door?
thank you for reading 📖