I often feel trapped in my office, looking out at the world having fun. The tree blowing in the breeze, the sights and sounds of kids playing, the occasional snippets of conversation between people huddled beneath my window talking about something they hoped to keep secret. The window faces west. Lovely warm light streams in through the blinds each afternoon. Sometimes I raise them and look out. Sometimes I don’t.
I am not, of course, trapped. I can come and go as I please. But I work here and so spend most of my day in this office. It’s a comfortable space, filled with books and gadgets and notes and pens and old prints and scientific instruments. But always the outside beckons, especially in the afternoons when my motivation wanes. I stand at the window and look out.
The window becomes the interface between me and the outside world. Not a barrier but a liminal space where light meets shadow, a space where possibilities await. I linger in that space.