The Open Door. . . To an Open Mind

IT IS BOTH STRANGE AND HUMILIATING to be confronted continually with the evidence of the number of closed doors I still have in the mind I once considered open. It seems to me the longer I measure my sobriety in AA years, the harder I have to work to expose and air these closed and stagnant spaces. I seem to have an unlimited number of off-limit areas: defined, labeled and diagnosed by some peculiar, uninformed and prejudiced method of my own. I find it distinctly disagreeable when I am forced to re-evaluate and admit I am wrong, and that my definitions are worthless and based on utter lack of information. Sometimes the forced admission of ignorance brings not only enlightenment but a warm rush of fellowship outside of the usual circle of my daily pattern. All of this brings me to the story of my pigeon-for-an-hour. . . .