I’m sitting in our living room, admiring the fence-in-progress around our swimming pool. It got me thinking about a Robert Frost poem called “Mending Wall” that my high school literary criticism group studied in a Barnes and Noble café once upon a time (yes, I was – am – that nerdy…). In the poem, the speaker reflects on the quiet power of borders, and observes that there is an invisible force that, disliking walls, creates gaps in them when it has the chance so that two strangers can pass through, side by side.

As the speaker chats with his neighbor, with whom he is repairing the stone wall which separates their properties, he discovers that they harbor very different views on walls.

While the speaker questions the necessity of walls, his neighbor states that “good fences make good neighbors,” a proverb you’re probably familiar with. The speaker’s opinion seems to stem from the fact that he and his neighbor are on good terms with no foreseeable threats to their relationship; the speaker has an apple orchard, and his neighbor has pines, so what possible conflict could emerge? Are his apples capable of crawling over the wall and munching on the neighbor’s pine trees?

Moreover, the speaker believes the mere sight of a wall is offensive because walls, in his mind, imply that those who pass by them are untrustworthy. How dare you, wall, think I would trespass or damage whatever it is you’re protecting. I am a good person, not a criminal.

There are many famous walls around the world…

Hadrian’s wall in Great Britain, which spans 45 miles and was the most fortified border in the Roman Empire.

The Western Wall in Jerusalem, which was built by King Herod in 19 B.C. as part of the courtyard for the Jewish temple.

The Great Wall of China, of course, and the Berlin Wall, and Spain’s beautiful Walls of Avila, parts of which tourists can traverse so they can stand in the lookouts and better admire the stunning gardens and gates surrounding them.

Like most neighborhoods, there are lots of walls and fences in our new neck of the woods. But because we’re “in the country,” many of the homes we can’t see from our road; like the house I grew up in, they’re nestled back behind tall trees and forbidding gates, vociferous dogs and meandering driveways.

I must say that the sight of the gates piques my curiosity. I wonder what the houses beyond them look like, what the people, my neighbors, are like, and what led them to choose properties that are more secluded than most.

“Men of sense often learn from their enemies. It is from their foes, not their friends, that cities learn the lesson of building high walls and ships of war.” – Aristophanes

You can see our house from the road, but there are fences. Two of them, in fact; one of them a normal height, and another taller, to keep out the wildlife. I’ve been pondering these fences too, wondering what life would be like if they weren’t there. What if nobody’s home had a fence around it? What if no backyard had a fence? What if there were no chicken coops or livestock pens?

For one thing, the animals would go berserk. Fighting. Fleeing. Running into busy streets. Searching frantically for shelter from predators. People would have to be extra cautious before going outside; they’d never know if the neighbor’s bellicose bull or snarling dog would be awaiting them in their driveway.

As for humans, well, that’s why Mr. Frost’s poem is so interesting. Some people most identify with the speaker, and others with the neighbor. The poet himself doesn’t seem to advocate for one position or another; he leaves it to us, the readers, to reflect and decide for ourselves whether fences support or impair safety and civility.

I personally interpret the wall in “Mending Wall” as a metaphor for the fences we build around ourselves.

Some people have no walls. They let whatever and whomever they fancy into their lives, allowing them, often unwittingly, to influence their thoughts and emotions. Abusive partners. Toxic food. Passive-aggressive “friends.” Filthy television. Fear-based media… Without fences, these things can come cascading into one’s life without notice. And once they’ve arrived, it can be nightmarishly difficult to kick them out due to things like addiction, codependency, trauma, and a distorted sense of self.

Other people are expert wall builders. They have walls around their schedules, guarding them with dogged determination lest they lose control of their day. Their diets have walls, too. As do their long-term goals and daily to-do lists. They know how dangerous it can be to let one’s guard down for even a nanosecond, and so have learned to keep a super-safe distance from people, places, and activities that might hurt, distract, or otherwise unsettle them.

But could there be a third type of individual? Could it be that there’s a balance between a “fenceless mentality” and a “Hadrian’s Wall” one?

I lean toward old Emperor Hadrian’s pro-fortification stance. I tend to have my guard up around people I don’t know well. I love my routines and plans and goals and lists. But I have also learned that sometimes I need to open the gates, let people in, and share my life with them a little. Sometimes I need to exit my cozy, and very tiny, empire and explore other places, try different things, and be okay with the discomfort that so often accompanies newness.

I need to realize that while I may be safe inside my walls, I’m also a prisoner there, unable to grow and learn and help others the way we as humans were designed to.

Which type of person are you? And to dive a little deeper, why are you that type of person? Answering the latter question could be tremendously beneficial in helping you construct fences that empower you to set healthy limits without becoming bound by them.

“For when those walls come down, then love takes over, and it no longer matters what is possible or impossible; it doesn’t even matter whether we can keep the loved one at our side. To love is to lose control.”
― Paulo Coelho