After schlepping his unsuspecting protégé Gaal Dornick across an empty desert planet for hours in service of the Foundation, Dr. Hari Seldon finally announces their arrival at their target location. Having ventured not just across sand and rock but also into the depths of a cold, dark cave, his matter-of-fact tone already grinds Gaal’s gears: “Our destination must be on the other side of this door.”
There is, however, one tiny problem, and it’s even more annoying than Seldon’s nonchalance: “Traditionally, doors have hinges and maybe a knob,” Gaal notes. “This…is a wall.” She’s right, of course. Instead of fresh air inviting them through the large archway carved into the rock, there is nothing but cold steel, carved with strange symbols.
But, as usual, Seldon is one step ahead. Almost rolling his eyes, he says: “Open a wall, it becomes a door.” And just like that, as much to her dismay as to her astonishment, Gaal must concede Seldon’s genius once more. She looks, she feels, she presses and—clunk!—the multi-ton metal obstacles slides away as if it weighed no more than a feather.
There are all kinds of walls in our lives. Walls made of feelings. Walls made of dust. Even invisible ones. But no matter what material may block our path, from rock to concrete to a man with crossed arms, every wall turns into a door once we manage to first open it. Is this one to woo or break through? One to pierce or scale? The answer will differ in each instance, but for the rest of our lives, I’m afraid Hari Seldon will stay in the right: Open a wall, and it becomes a door—now let’s get cracking.