by E. Alan Meece, Dec.13, 2025
My essays For UU Band of Writers at UUFLG
prompt: a key to a door
"You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension. A dimension of sound (crash through a window). A dimension of sight (moving eye). A dimension of mind (E=mc2). You’re moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You’ve just crossed over into---- the twilight zone" The Twilight Zone intro
My bathroom sink is clogged. My life is clogged too! My life is clogged by some people. I need a key to a door. I need a key that will unclog these things!
Will a plunger work? How about drano? How about a ski pole? How about a snake? How about a feathered plume? An array of colors? How about a firecracker. What about a bomb? Is the pen really mightier than a sword? Maybe if I blow my nose, both my sink and those people will get the idea and unclog too? What can I imagine that will open the door?
I know this door will open (or my nose, or my rose). Right now I don’t know just how. Prayer might work. But who do I pray to? The goddess of doors? Jesus, or Janus? It’s Christmas time. So, do I give my drain a gift? Do I cast a spell on the people? Or the drain? Which witch will help me? Who’s the magician? My lawyer? My therapist? My minister? My spirit guides? My ancestors? If I come, who will build my door? Who will make the key? Will music work, if I can play the keys? If I unclog one, will that unclog the other? Do I invite the people clogging me to a party? Should I feed drano to them? Is my drain clogged because the people clogged me? Is there a flying purple people plummer? Whom I gonna call? Jim Morrison? Aldous Huxley?
I am working with self-hypnosis to resolve the clog. But what if my drain, my life, and the world remain clogged? What if there’s no hope? Ukraine, Gaza and Palestine, Sudan, Burma, still clogged without end? The United States, clogged for 46 years and counting? I just sit at The Dock of the Bay, watch the tides roll out and in, on me and within me, letting it flow where it will, wasting time, or not, world without end. Amen.
Dock of the Bay was from a more hopeful time, but a time when hope may have died in many ways too. A prophetic song for Otis Redding, sadly, and for us, sadly, and for me, sadly. But, as Edward Kennedy said, the hope still lives. Otis was actually on a boat in the SF Bay when he wrote this song. My awakening was about boats too. We wish to talk to you about boats! The Awakening still lives, in spite of all the clogs. What Floats My Boat