The Cage is Open. You may Go.

Dearest slightly singed phoenixes:

For far too long, you’ve been perched inside a perfectly respectable, albeit entirely self-imposed, cage. It’s got all the familiar comforts: the predictable anxieties, the well-worn self-doubt, the trusty “better safe than sorry” mantra echoing off the bars. You’ve decorated it nicely with the familiar reminders to stay inside. Each reminder a shiny trinket, each avoidance strategy a carefully placed cushion.

But here’s the thing: the door is open.

Sure enough. No dramatic escape plan required. No lock-picking skills necessary. No daring leaps of faith over treacherous emotional chasms (though those can be fun later). Someone – okay, you – left the latch undone. Maybe it was a subconscious nudge. Maybe it was a wise soul who lifted the latch. Or maybe it was a fleeting moment of bravery you almost immediately dismissed. Doesn’t matter. What matters is the breeze you’re feeling. That’s the outside. That’s the vast, sometimes messy, often glorious world you’ve been peering at through the wire.

I know, I know. It looks… different out there. Unpredictable. Possibly even a little terrifying. Inside the cage, you know the drill. You know the angles of the shadows, the limitations, the familiar ache of what could be. Stepping out means facing the unknown, bumping into new feelings, maybe even scraping a knee or two.

Your inner critic, bless its overprotective heart, is probably squawking right now. “But what if you get hurt? What if you fail?” And to that, I say: C’mon, you’ve already been hurting. A phoenix can live in a cage, sure, but phoenixes are not meant for cages. They are meant for arid skies, tree tops and fire breathing. The cage, for all its perceived safety, has its own set of sharp edges and suffocating silences. 

This is about recognizing that survival mode, while helpful in its time, has overstayed its welcome. It’s like wearing a full suit of medieval armor to a picnic – impressive, perhaps, but not exactly conducive for swimming or trampolining. 

So, take a deep breath. Feel the air that isn’t filtered through wire. Notice the space beyond the restrictions you’ve known. The world isn’t waiting to pounce. It’s not even waiting. It’s poolside with sunglasses and flip flops, smelling slightly of coconut. Who knows what its plan is? Could get a bit sunburned. Could walk away with a sweet, Mediterranean tan. Who knows? But there’s an open beach chair next to it and lying on top of it is a very long menu for the little tiki bar down the way. 

You don’t have to sprint from the cage. You can tiptoe. You can peek your head out and see if sunglasses are needed. But please, for the love of all that is yearning to bloom within you, acknowledge that the cage is open.

The choice, as always, is yours. (But wouldn’t you like to feel the wind beneath your wings, even just for a little while?).

Go on. 

(Did I mention the tiki bar?).

*Title attributed to a Theodore Roethke comment