The Glass Cage
Of the mind
The Rabbit
A while back we brought home a pet rabbit — a young and reasonably large male rabbit with long droopy ears. The rabbit was pure white and had red eyes. We called him Snowy.
The plan was that we would neuter Snowy, get him a spayed girlfriend and keep them free ranged in our backyard. The backyard was fully enclosed with no predators in central city where we lived at the time. The only potential predator was the neighbor’s cat who was totally intimidated by Snowy.
Snowy’s red eyes made him look somewhat sinister. As we learned later, appearances could indeed be very deceptive; Snowy was the kindest rabbit ever. And surprisingly smart.
Much later, when he was free ranging in our backyard, he would only come to us when he wanted to interact. That said, Snowy developed a special bond with my six-year-old son. When my son called him, Snowy would come and patiently wait for my son to pick him up, with the first couple of unsuccessful attempts. Snowy would just sit there at my son’s feet waiting patiently, and when my son finally managed to pick Snowy up, Snowy would lovingly lick my son’s face like a dog.
Then I taught my son to come down to the rabbit’s level and things became much easier. The two would sometimes sit under the bush together, side by side, as if talking to each other, and watched life going on around them.
The Change
At the pet shop, Snowy was kept in a huge glass cage with a couple of other baby rabbits. The glass walls of the cage were impeccably clean; it was hard to see there was actually glass unless you touched it. (Or was it glass-like plastic?)
Snowy must have been about four months old when we bought him, so he had probably spent a couple of months in that cage.
When we brought him home, we put him in a big toilet tray in his quite big new home. He was free to go anywhere he wanted in the backyard. We sat there excited and watched Snowy in anticipation; it’s always fun to watch how animals settle down and explore their new surroundings.
We sat there watching Snowy and Snowy sat in the tray watching us.
Nothing happened. At first, we thought he was shy and moved away. Nothing. We moved even further away. Snowy just sat there. Half an hour later the rabbit didn’t move much in the tray. His eyes looked lifeless. He just sat in the tray looking sad and lonely, and stared at us.
I thought, the rabbit must be sick.
Husband then came up to the rabbit’s tray — we thought Snowy would run off seeing a stranger approaching him, but that didn’t happen. Husband took hold of the one side of the tray and tilted it to make the rabbit jump off. He didn’t want to touch Snowy — who knew how the rabbit would react to physical contact from a stranger.
As the tray was dangerously tilting to one side, Snowy made all effort to hold his ground in the middle of the tray; at some point he looked like a cat with claws out trying to hold on to the tray. He was obviously panicking.
Freedom
At last, Snowy couldn’t hold to the tray anymore so he had to step out of the tray and on to the ground. He froze for a moment. I never knew rabbits could change their facial expressions. I could clearly tell Snowy was having a moment of disbelief as if his little universe was collapsing.
Then the realization came — he was free.
I could clearly see that realization hitting Snowy because he suddenly jumped very high in the air and performed a little dance of joy with powerful leaps and his long droopy ears flopping around — anyone who ever owned rabbits would be well familiar with this dance. Then Snowy came running to us and made several circles around us with some funny noises, sniffing at our feet and knees. Then he was off exploring his new home and the backyard.
Snowy was young, healthy, very upfront, extremely active and very sociable rabbit. He was inquisitive, friendly and intelligent. He wasn’t sick or anything like that.
It took me a couple of minutes to realize that Snowy — sitting in the tray and free to go anywhere in the backyard— was convinced he was still confined to a glass cage. He didn’t see any reason to move because no matter where he went, he expected to hit a glass wall. Glass walls were Snowy’s universe since he was a tiny rabbit. He didn’t know anything else.
So, when my husband forced Snowy out of the tray, Snowy’s little universe came down in flames. I doubt at that moment Snowy felt gratitude towards husband. Maybe later when the shock passed.
It was a happy end for Snowy. He got used to his freedom literally within a couple of hours. I guess we get used to good things quickly.
The Cage
That story made me think about my own glass cage.
For humans, of course, glass cages mostly come in the form of some kind of limitations that our minds are conditioned to believe. Biases and beliefs that society embeds in us.
‘This is how we do things around here.’
‘Single people can’t be happy.’
‘Boys don’t cry.’
‘Childless women are unhappy women.’
The list goes on.
Mind you, a glass cage is more cruel than a standard cage made of wires and metal.
When locked in a metal cage (by external circumstances or toxic people), we can still see the metal wires and we know that we are restricted. We get resentful and even start plotting an escape. If there’s a will, there’s a way. We might even escape one day.
But glass cages?
Glass cages created in our own minds are dangerous. They give us the illusion of freedom and destroy our self-confidence.
We try to move on and reach out, but we hit the wall which we can’t even see. Often, we don’t quite know if the wall is there or maybe we imagined it. We try again and hit an invisible wall again.
We start doubting ourselves. We lose the sense of reality (is the invisible wall real? or is it just me?)
No matter what direction we take, we still hit an invisible wall. We can’t understand what the problem is. We lose confidence, power and the motivation to move. Then a moment comes when we stop trying. We lose hope.
Loss of hope and motivation is the worst thing that glass cages can do to us, and what, in fact, they are meant to do to us.
At the end, we don’t even need glass walls anymore. Maybe the walls were taken down long time ago. Biases and old mental patterns shattered down. Old beliefs becoming totally irrelevant. Yet, we just get stuck believing that whatever we try to change, we won’t be able to penetrate the invisible perimeter.
The End
I wish I could come up with a mandatory happy end for us humans locked in glass cages of our minds (aren’t we all?)
I know one thing though: when life tries to shake me out of my own little glass cage, I now learn to accept this with gratitude.
People who come into my life to challenge my biases. Circumstances that force me to review my beliefs about how things should be. Life that suddenly ‘happens’ and forces me to change.
I won’t lie: my first reaction is always shock and denial, and even anger. Then I think of Snowy’s desperate attempt to hold on to his little tray reluctant to look around and realize that we were offering him some freedom. Maybe not all the freedom in the world, but definitely greater freedom than his old glass cage.
So, I surrender to the change.
Later (sometimes much later) I even feel gratitude.
