Looking Up: Notes from Bill Bourbonnais

“When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.” - Alexander Graham Bell You’re probably familiar with Alexander Graham Bell’s quote — or at least the shortened version that includes only the first line. I was reminded of it recently during a visit to Dorothea Dix Park here in Raleigh. We were there with our son, Daniel, and a few of his friends before they headed back to college after Christmas. Their primary reason for the trip was to see the giant wooden trolls created by Danish artist Thomas Dambo — part of a statewide exhibit spread across North Carolina. But tucked away in one open field was something quieter that caught my attention even more. A series of standalone doors. They mark where former hospital buildings once stood — simple frames now, set in the open air. No walls. No structure. Just doors. A visual reminder of transitions, memories, and change. And it ...

  I watched a group of musicians perform something difficult over the holidays. They weren’t in the same room. They weren’t part of a touring production. They weren’t performing for applause. Each musician recorded separately, in different spaces, at different times. Their performances were later assembled into a single piece. What emerged was precise, disciplined, and emotionally intact. It was flawless. What struck me wasn’t talent or virtuosity. It was restraint. No one rushed. No one played louder than the moment required. No one tried to make themselves the point. Every part served something larger than itself. Discipline Is What Makes Meaning Visible We tend to talk about talent as though it’s the primary ingredient of excellence. Natural ability. Instinct. Giftedness. Those things matter, but they’re rarely what moves us most. What moves us is watching capable people choose discipline. Watching individuals who could stand out decide not to. Watching skill subm...