A friend last week reminded me of the time, some years ago, I saw myself as a boundary rider, looking for and mending holes in fences. It probably suited my maverick-like approach to my work, seeking to be a part of but apart from the communities in which I participated.
Upon reflection, the boundary rider still rides, but his tasks have changed. He rides the fences looking for closed gates. He opens them wide. Some open easily on well-oiled hinges. Others are rusted with corroded padlocks that can only be removed with bolt cutters or an angle grinder.
Gates – they can keep people in or let them through.
Wondering Pilgrim 