Mohini was a regal white tiger. In the 1960s and 70s, she lived at the National Zoo in Washington DC. Most of those years she lived in the old lion house--a twelve-by-twelve-foot cage with iron bars and a cement floor. Mohini spent her days pacing restlessly back and forth in her cramped quarters, while zoo visitors watched, pointing in awe.

Eventually, biologists and staff worked to move Mohini from such an artificial and cramped environment, to a habitat more natural and suitable for her. Mohini's new home covered several acres with hills, trees, a pond and a variety of vegetation. With excitement and anticipation they released Mohini into her new and spacious environment.  

What occurred next, no one expected.  

Instead of frolicking in the newfound freedom, Mohini immediately sought refuge in a corner of the compound, where she lived for the remainder of her life. Mohini paced and paced in that corner until, in the end, it made an area twelve-by-twelve-foot, now worn bare of grass.

From the time I was a young boy, my mother told me that the sky was the limit. I could dream or be anything. So why wouldn't Mohini have treasured her freedom? After I read Mohini's story I had an immediate response, which included a litany of how we too easily live life so small. But it's not that simple, is it? Because over the years, I haven't always seen the cages around me, and I've had a grocery list of "guidance" sermonized at me.

"Do you know what your problem is?"

"Well of course, can't you see?!? All you need to do is..."

We can be stuck. No surprise there.

When I travel and talk with people, I hear it frequently. "We feel stuck." Or, "we need a change." I do know this: it doesn't help to have well-intentioned (or worse, self-righteous) people add to the weight of our trance, only to be more driven by "I have to do more to be okay" or "I am somehow incomplete." These "mantras" only reinforce the belief that our life is elsewhere and otherwise, and assuredly, not possible where it is now.

I'll 'fess up. I easily see this "stuckness" in those around me.

In myself? Not so much.

We may want to love other people without holding back,

We may want to feel authentic,

We may want to breathe in the beauty around us,

We may want to dance and sing.

And yet... each day we listen to inner voices that keep our life small.

In other words, we do stay stuck; imprisoned in ourselves.

As if there's a script that includes: "don't, shouldn't, can't be done, what are you thinking? you know that won't work don't you?"

Lord have mercy...

And we end up just like Mohini, pacing in the corner of our domain.

The older I get, the clearer it becomes to me that no one is cheated in this world, unless its by himself, but some of us are so wounded that we must return to the scene of the crime, must play with the fire that burned us, must live the scene out as many times as necessary until it comes out differently. We are not prisoners, no traps or snares are set about us, but many of us imprison ourselves or at least are helplessly stalled.  

Merle Shain

Here's the deal: it's not the external boundaries that make a difference; it's the internal ones.

This is where we go a bit off the rail. You see, believing our boundaries are external, we seek an external solution--say a whole new environment with hills and a pond and such (or perhaps the addition of a new BMW convertible... just saying).

Perhaps the solution is an invitation. Try this...

If I assume my identity is confined to a cage;

I will carry that identity with me wherever I go.

However, when I learn that my identity is deeper--more profound and remarkable--and that I am loved and cherished regardless of any cage;

Then, the iron bars begin to disappear.

I was neurotic for years. I was anxious and depressed and selfish. Everyone kept telling me to change. I resented them, and I agreed with them, and I wanted to change, but simply couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. Then one day someone said to me, "Don't change. I love you just as you are." Those words were music to my ears: "Don't change, Don't change. Don't change . . . I love you as you are." I relaxed. I came alive. And suddenly I changed! Anthony de Mello

Where to begin? Maybe, all it takes is one step over the imaginary line of the cage in the corner.

To know that our cages--even the ones of iron and steel--are self-imposed, is a start. To recognize our capacity. And to live from strength and not limitation.

Perhaps one of the biggest tragedies in our lives is that freedom is possible, yet we can pass our years trapped in the same old patterns. Entangled in some kind of trance--scripts about unworthiness or marginalization or shame or powerlessness or inadequacy--self-judgment and anxiety become the very cage. We spend our days in restlessness and dissatisfaction. And like Mohini, we grow incapable of accessing the freedom and peace that are our birthright.

It is autumn here now. But atypical, in that we haven't had rain for weeks. Go figure. It'll spoil our reputation. I love these October days, still filled with sunshine and warmth, the garden basking and preening and aflame. I stepped outside late tonight, to savor the evening sky. The moon is not bright, so the stars are endless and I remember that the sky is the limit, like my life... boundless and beckoning. I wonder if tomorrow I will be pacing in the corner, or exploring the margins.