A young women from northern Ohio with piercing blue eyes and an easy smile approached me at the open house Saturday and said she had driven for a day and night to come to the farm and had a question to ask, if I didn’t mind. I said I didn’t, she asked: “why do you have these open houses? They seem like a lot of work, I imagine it costs you money, it invades your privacy and you’re not really selling anything of your own. Why do you do it?”

It was a good question and a fair question, and Maria and I both sometimes ask the same thing, especially at the end of a day that is both exhilarating and exhausting. We have no trouble remembering why we do it, and why we hope to continue to do it. Being vulnerable is about truth and honesty for us.

The author Stephen Russell wrote that vulnerability is the only authentic state, and I believe that is so. Being vulnerable means being open, it is sometimes wounding, but also brings great pleasure. Being vulnerable means exposing yourself to the world, but it also means being open to the beauty and connection and richness of the world.

I dreaded vulnerability for much of my life, ran and  hid from it. And then came to see it was one of the greatest assets I ever have or ever will possess, a treasure no bank or politician or angry person can ever take away from me. Vulnerability brings true life, it opens the deepest channels of creativity and friendship, it opens the door to love and community.

To be closed is the opposite of vulnerability, it means living in an emotional moat, closed off from truth, from the creative spark and from the true nature of life, it is like putting blinders on a horse, you will move about more securely, but you will pay a price: you will not see much of the reality of the world, and the world will not see the truth of you. To be closed is to hide and cower, to deny the spirit and soul of oneself.

I used to shiver with vulnerability, now I dance in it, is the truth and goodness and the sweetness inside of me, it brings me love and connection, people, experience, honest writing, photographs of meaning, animals that I love,  there are things that can only come to you when you are vulnerable, that is, when you are open.

I am sorry to say I know what I mean for me when I talk about being open, because it is new and fresh for me. Because I was closed for the first 60 or so years of my life, my homes were fortresses, my walls dense and fortified, no one got through. I began to open only after that, late in life as they like to say in their awful way, and since these gates opened for me, riches and strength beyond my imagination flowed into my life.

I told this young woman who came to my farm that when I became open I meant to become a person whose life a young and curious women from northern Ohio might want to drive a long way to come and see, and ask me questions to my face.

Einstein said the measure of intelligence is the ability to change, a closed mind is the very definition of what it means to be ignorant. Once you let them pin that label on you – you are “left” or to the “right” then  you have no reason to ever think again, and from what I see, it is likely that  you never will. An  open mind is just like an open door, it needs oil and attention or it will rust and atrophy.

We are happy to open our lives to people who wish to share them with us, and hopefully take something of value home with them. But I will be honest, and speak only for myself. I do it for me, not for them. It is selfish. I open my life to trust, not suspicion, to connection, not isolation, the bounty of the world parks in my driveway and walks into my yard and shakes my hand and I can stand in the open air and say with a strong head and open mind that I have nothing to hide any longer. This is me, who I am, what I am about, and you can take me or leave me, you get the good me and the bad me. You will hopefully not soon forget me. In the Bible God says that there is no other God before him.

I say of being open that there is no other me but the one you see.

I wouldn’t mind having that as an epitaph.