Borders

We live in a world of borders. Of boundaries, within and without. There’s check-ins, check-outs, passports, barbed wire, controls, guards, rivers, unseen lines in the sand. We all want to go somewhere. And we all pass through borders to get there.

We carry our borders within us. What we know, what we lived so far, the world we see and feel and touch, our friends, our families, our experiences — that is our territory. Sometimes we go out, conquer something new. “I didn’t know I could do that…” “I just found out that…” These are words, formulas, they’re spells that we invoke when we extend our borders.

But sometimes there’s no need to walk through there. We look, we see, and what we cannot see, we can imagine. All the world’s stories are means of introspection, for a good story has within it the magic to transport us within. We walk in the heroes’ shoes, we see through their eyes and feel with their hearts. We shudder at their cruelty, we cry their tears and laugh their joy. We live their lives, if only for a time. And thus we learn. “Would I have done that?” “What would I have done?” This magic helps us scry beyond our borders.

The way we are dictates the way we walk, the way we conquer. Some of us wonder far and wide, amassing lands, never stopping in wonder of what lies beyond the wall. Then there are others that erect huge towers, from which they can see far and wide. They never walk, for they don’t believe it necessary. They can see just fine from up there. These are the most extreme, of course — most of us will do both during a lifetime. Sometimes our friends do walk ahead us, and we follow. Other times not, because we see the pit they fell in, or the lions they encountered. And so we live. And learn.

And then there are the times when life throws us off balance. We’re wondering content within our borders when a tornado drops us into Oz. Everything’s new, everything’s different, and all we ever knew is now long one. In times like these one learns about oneself. To one’s glory, or perhaps to one’s dismay — for even the cruellest of the tyrants are heroes of their own story, and no one likes to see a villain in the mirror.

Indeed, most of us walk through life without ever having to ask ourselves the hard questions. Look in the eyes of the next stranger you meet — can you see his potential? Can you see yours? Did Hitler imagine the horrors he’ll cause when he was just a corporal in the Austrian army? If a tornado would tear you from your cosy little world and drag you into an Inquisition court, would you side with the cardinal? Or with the witch?

We can only imagine.