Key Ring

I had never realized the meaning of a key ring until I sold my shop a little over two years ago, when only two keys remained on my ring, one to my house, the other to my car.

Less keys meant less responsibility, less burden, which up to that point had hung heavily on my mind. Now that all the other keys were gone, it felt like a dense mist had been lifted from myself. I saw more colors, observed more details, paid more attention to my surroundings. I felt healthier. I felt the joy of liberation.

Yet I knew that this buoyancy would not last long. Sooner or later, I would have to assume other responsibilities and add other keys to my ring. In this world where we live, unless one leads the life of a drifter, keys are a requirement. They mean you have access to something or some place that others don't. They separate and categorize, assert privileges and remind of duties, delight and depress people. In an ideal world there should be no keys. I wonder if there are keys in Heaven.

At this point, I still have only two keys in my ring, which is true but not entirely true. I now have a badge to wear around my neck, a badge which electronically open doors to the corporate building where I currently work. Not quite out of it, am I?