The Art of Opening Up
- Cobra Journey
- Apr 13
- 6 min read
Through Fragments, we find Wholeness: a story of Vulnerability and Self-Acceptance
The Promenade of Broken Mirrors
The man arrived at the jazz bar on a night of light rain. He wore a faded gray coat and carried the smell of cold coffee on his fingertips. The venue, Midnight Blue, was empty except for the bartender, who was cleaning glasses with a rag that never seemed to dry. On the jukebox, Coltrane's My Favorite Things played softly, but the notes dissolved against the walls, as if the building itself breathed and absorbed the sound.
"You know what happens with this rain?" asked the bartender without looking up. "It doesn’t soak you. It just makes everything feel old."
The man didn’t respond. He sat by the window, where his reflection blurred with the droplets sliding down the glass. For years, he had felt something closed inside his chest, like a rusted metal door. He worked in an insurance office, reviewing life policies that would never belong to him. The numbers whispered warnings in his dreams: “Calculated risk doesn’t exist.”
One night, as he left the bar, he found an alley that hadn’t been there before. Its walls were covered in graffiti that shifted shapes under the moonlight: hands reaching out, birds turning into Cyrillic letters. At the end of the alley, a young woman played Blackbird on a guitar without strings. The music wasn’t sound—it was vibration in his bones.
“Are you here looking for something?” she asked, though her lips didn’t move.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“That 's good.”
He followed her. They walked through corridors that smelled of freshly baked bread and sea salt until they reached a room with a broken mirror on the floor. The shards didn’t reflect his image but scenes from his life: his mother singing songs in an invented language, a stray dog that had followed him for three blocks one winter, the time he cried in a train bathroom because a stranger smiled at him.
“Mirrors don’t lie,” said the woman. “They only show what you already know.”
He knelt and touched one of the fragments. The glass bled, but the wound didn’t hurt. Instead, he felt the weight of all the times he had said “no” out of fear that a “yes” would dismantle him. Tears he hadn’t cried pooled in his palms, forming a puddle that reflected the sky.
“What do I do with this?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied. “Let it be.”
When he returned to the bar, the bartender handed him a glass of water. The rain had stopped, and the air smelled of magnolias. The man looked at his reflection in the window: he was no longer alone. Behind him, like dancing shadows, multiplied all the versions of himself buried beneath layers of “I can’t” and “it’s dangerous.”
As he left, the alley had vanished. In its place was a promenade with empty benches and flickering lamp posts blinking in Morse code. He sat down. A black cat curled up at his feet, purring a melody that reminded him of the stringless guitar.
“And now?” he asked the cat.
The animal looked at him with amber eyes. In its gaze, he saw something that made him laugh: the simple, absurd beauty of existing without asking permission.
He stayed there until dawn, watching how sunlight filtered through tree leaves and drew patterns on his hands. The numbers from insurance policies still lingered in his mind but sounded different now—less like warnings and more like lullabies.
When the sun rose high enough, he stood up and walked toward nowhere.
The alley would return; he knew it.
But this time, he wouldn’t be afraid to enter.
The Art of Opening Up: a journey towards Fulfillment
Life, in its purest essence, constantly invites us to open up—but often we find ourselves trapped in the illusion of being closed off. This feeling of emotional closure is nothing more than a trick of the mind—a construct that separates us from life’s natural flow.
From birth, we are open to everything: to others, to ourselves, and to existence itself. Yet over time, experiences and fears convince us to protect ourselves by building walls to avoid pain or rejection. But what if we discovered that those walls are imaginary and that we’ve always been open?
Emotional closure feels like disconnection—as if "the Other" is outside us and cannot enter our space. This perception stems from our early relationships with maternal or paternal figures who shape how we interact with others and life itself.
From these initial interactions, we learn to condition our openness: we accept only what feels safe and reject what discomforts us. But even one condition is enough to declare ourselves closed off—and therein lies our challenge: learning to accept unconditionally.
Opening up means looking inward and recognizing the "lies" we’ve built to protect ourselves—social masks designed to hide who we truly are or feel in order to gain acceptance or avoid rejection. These strategies keep us emotionally closed off and disconnected from our essence. True openness requires courage—the willingness to shed those masks and expose ourselves as we are.
Carl Jung offers a powerful insight into this process: everything that bothers or discomforts us about others is a reflection of what we need to work on within ourselves. The discomfort triggered by others’ actions is life’s secret language—a guide showing us which internal aspects we’re ready to confront and overcome. When we face these discomforts head-on and move through them, something magical happens: what once disturbed us no longer affects us when we see it in others.
It’s easy to say "yes" to what we like about others—but saying "yes" to what discomforts us is revolutionary. Doing so allows us to enter life’s flow and experience two transformative outcomes: first, we overcome our own internal limitations; second, we allow life itself to act on our behalf—bringing us what we need while removing what no longer serves us at exactly the right moment. This process connects us with life’s natural cycle and leads us toward profound harmony with existence.
Openness not only transforms our relationships with others; it also reshapes how we perceive ourselves and the world around us. Seeing others with purity and innocence invites us to view ourselves under that same light—a reconciliation both external and internal where accepting others teaches us self-acceptance.
This journey toward openness isn’t linear or perfect—it’s an ongoing process of sensory connection with life itself. Opening our senses—sight, touch, hearing—allows us to experience existence more fully while discovering life’s invisible energy guiding all living things. Ultimately, opening up means saying "yes" to everything that comes—to beauty and discomfort alike; pain and pleasure; uncertainty and love.
When we finally let go of mental and emotional barriers built by fear or judgment, we discover something extraordinary: we were never truly closed off—we’ve always been part of everything; always been open.
We just needed to remember it.
Key Points
The illusion of closure as a mental construct
Emotional closure is an illusion created by our minds based on perceiving ourselves as separate from others.
It originates from early experiences with maternal or paternal figures who shape how we relate to “the Other” and life itself.
Definition of closure and openness
Closure: A sense of separation between internal and external worlds; distrust toward others; conditional acceptance.
Openness: Unconditional acceptance; allowing exchange between oneself, others, and life itself—our natural state since birth.
Recognizing internal “lies”
These “lies” are social masks used to hide who we truly are or feel—strategies for avoiding rejection or seeking acceptance—but they perpetuate emotional closure.
The role of reconciliation
Reconciliation with oneself and others is key for overcoming closure illusions.
Carl Jung emphasized that discomfort triggered by others reflects internal struggles ready for healing—once resolved internally; external triggers lose their power over us.
The importance of unconditional acceptance
One condition is enough for closure; openness requires saying “yes” even to discomfort.
Embracing discomfort allows personal growth while letting life provide what’s needed—and remove what no longer serves—in perfect timing.
Transformation through human relationships
Seeing others with purity mirrors self-purity; reconciliation fosters growth through mutual acceptance.
Sensory & energetic connection
Opening senses (sight/touch/hearing) deepens connection with existence’s guiding energy while breaking illusions of separateness.
The path toward final openness
Final openness involves embracing interconnectedness—letting go of fear/judgment barriers—and rediscovering our inherent unity with all things.
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