Boola was my old roommate’s cockatiel. His home within the home was his cage in front of the living room window. At the beginning of our acquaintance he normally kept to himself in the comforting enclosure of the cage, chirping away happily through most of each day. It was his safety zone, his security blanket where he was most comfortable and relaxed, and he became nervous and skittish when I approached the cage, if even to change his water and food.
My roommate opened the cage door for Boola every day for a while, and though he explored the living room and kitchen for a short time each day—each time lasting longer and longer—he never strayed far from his comfortable territory, his cage. When he was ready to return, or something made him nervous, he made his way quickly back to the cage; back to his comfort zone.
Boola always eyed me when I went by, wary of my presence, yet somewhat curious about me.
I often opened the cage and tried to coax him out, or urge him to remain out when I neared him, but he wouldn’t have any of that. He wanted to play it safe instead and not take chances.
Day by day, bit by bit, he ventured out of his safety zone and explored further and further from the cage—and closer and closer to me, yet if I took a step in his direction he became skittish and backed away. He would only approach by his will alone, and only as much as he felt ready. Closer and closer he came, across the room, up to my bedroom door, into the room, but still measuring the distance between us even as I whistled and coaxed him further.
Coming closer, one step at a time.
One day, suddenly and with no warning, he was ready. He made his way into my room and trotted up to me as I sat at my desk, climbed my leg and torso, and perched himself on my shoulder. There he went, and there he sat, day after day from that point on, comfortable and content to be sitting on my shoulder and picking at my beard or face
“Help! I’m being eaten alive by a flesh eating bird! Oh noes!”
When I walked through the living room to the kitchen, or my bedroom, he rushed bravely out of the open cage and flapped happily, flying across the room to land on my shoulder. It seemed to be the one place he desired most to be, and he was never afraid of me again.
I told others:
“I once had a friend who I gave my shoulder to lean on, and in response he crapped all over me. Still, I enjoyed letting him have my shoulder, I just had to change my shirt after every time I spent with him.” ~Me
On reflection, many times have I been Boola in the bird cage, staying put where I was rather than venturing out; staying safe, holding still and remaining in my comfort zone. A job I hated, a relationship I wasn’t completely happy in, situations that didn’t fully suit me; places I remained in rather than venture out of the cage to seek better pastures.
I thought about the old man in the movie The Shawshank Redemption, who after spending so much of his adult life behind bars, in a prison cage, he feared early release and acted out so as to be sentenced to more time in the cage. When he was finally released and pushed back into the outside world, he feared too much the uncertain world outside of his comfort zone, his own chosen cage. Unable or unwilling to adapt, out of fear, past experience, or simply lack of confidence, he took his own life as a free man. He ended his life due to his fear of how to face his freedom. But was he really a free man outside of his former prison? No, he was still in his cage, the cage of his own design, caged by his fear and lack of confidence in his ability to start over.
There are those with a phobia of leaving their house, terrified of what might happen to them outside of their safety zone. Their fear of the bad that (probably won’t) might happen outweighs any thoughts of the good they might experience, and it keeps them caged, holding them back from experiencing a life of freedom. They live like Boola, caged by a comfort zone they caged themselves in, literally terrified of opening the door.
How many times have you caged yourself by fear, lack of confidence in your abilities, and refusal to try new things, to improve your life? Have you checked the lock on the door? That’s right; there isn’t a lock there at all. In many cases, the door stays closed because we haven’t pushed ourselves enough to push it open.
I see a lot of people in cages, held back by inhibitions or fear of the unknown. I also see people who appear to be out of cages, going about their lives happy and stable, but yet never truly free. They believe themselves free, subservient to no one, as that invisible cage of their subconscious yet holds them back from what they really want in life; what they’re truly capable of.
And Boola, my beloved friend Boola, how did he finally resolve his fear of unfamiliar surroundings and of exploring new ventures? Well, one day my roommate left the front door open to bring stuff in, forgetting that the cage was open too. Boola saw the inviting blue sky which he’d only formerly seen through the adjacent window, and answered the call. He flapped hard and soared off into the free air and open sky, never to be seen or heard from again. No letters, no phone calls, no hand-written notes by carrier pigeon; not a peep heard, and no word from Boola the bird. He finally overcame his fear, his inhibitions, and freed himself in the process.
“If you love something, set it free; if it comes backs it's yours, if it doesn't, it never was.” ~Richard Bach
Sometimes I wonder about him. Is he happy, is he safe? Does he miss me, my presence, my shoulder; does he miss his home? Then I reflect on the cage and remember where he is now. Free as a bird, free as the sky; he IS home, and he is free.
What cage is holding you back?
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