A Window Left Open

It was already after midnight. I had just finished talking to a friend, and while getting ready for bed I remembered quite by surprise I had forgotten to close the window at the office space where I teach my night classes two times a week.

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I did a quick mental check in. The window was open about half way, no screen. The weather was good, so it was very unlikely a storm would roll in during the night. The office building is on a hill, so the side of the building where the open window was would not be easily accessible for unlawful entry. I decided to let it be and go to sleep.

At 4:47 AM I woke suddenly, thought once again about the window and decided I needed to get up, drive to the office and close it—not such a pleasant task, as the drive is about 20 miles each way. Not really what I had in mind for so early in the morning, but I got up, dressed rather haphazardly, checked to see if my hair was tame enough to skip combing it and off drove. As I crossed over the Fremont Bridge I could see the pink of the dawn sky reflecting off the buildings in downtown Portland as well as the surface of the Willamette River. The city was pink. My forgetfulness of the night before and subsequent adventure yielded a nice surprise.

I returned home—Mission accomplished!—, crawled back into bed for a few more hours of sleep, and wrote my Morning Pages when I finally woke up again. This is a daily routine I have used for over 15 years. It is a way for me to process, to muddle, to ponder. I took the opportunity to ask myself the questions: "Why was it okay to leave the window open all night but not okay to leave it that way in the morning?" "What was it that prompted me to drive there at dawn instead of midnight?"

"Time for the truth," I said. I had reasoned the night before that I didn’t need to close the window because I felt nothing bad was going to happen. However, in the morning I realized I didn’t want the owner of the office space to come in, find it open and decide I was unreliable and not able to be trusted. I didn’t want her to think badly of me and hence no longer allow me to use the space. The other piece I realized was my feeling of responsibility toward the man whose desk and personal belongings were located nearest the open window. I imagined he would come in, discover the situation, and then worry about it all day, fretting over all the things that could have happened even though they did not.

Now mind you, I’m not sure what either of them would have done. But I did have a story about what I thought they would do or might do.

So what was this about? Saving face? Looking good? Protecting someone from unnecessary worry? This also raised for me the question of how much time I spend worrying about what might have happened or could have happened but didn’t, or trying to figure out how other people will respond to situations and circumstances.

As is most often the case, the issue isn’t about finding answers; it is about asking the questions. What would you have done?

Have you left a window open somewhere that needs to be closed? If so, where is it and when does it need to be closed? Or does it?

Ingrid

Ingrid Kincaid is an internationally known storyteller, teacher and spiritual mentor. She is an intuitive reader of ancient runes. She gently shows her clients how to tap into their own inner wisdom by weaving together creativity, spirituality and ancient knowing. Ingrid is available for interviews, private consultations and group presentations. You can contact her at ingk@ingridkincaid.com or 415.652.3990.