I am here to attest to the campus that the red arches contain a transformative power that could only be described as religious. The students who deliberately bypass these arches, refusing to pass underneath them, have no idea how slammed-shut their hearts, minds and doors really are. Just this week, I passed through the threshold of the arch in front of Uris. I can say that I have seen the light, and it is good.

Initially I was timid, more afraid of what wouldn't happen than what would. What if I passed over to the other side of this arch, this arch that I had looked to with such faith and trust, and found that there was nothing there?

Well, I was not to be disappointed. As soon as my body moved into the liminal region between the arch's front and rear, the change was immediate and graceful. Benevolent rays of open-mindedness wrapped me in swaths of healing energy, and my very spirit was filled with warmth and nourishment, as if I had been submerged into the amniotic fluids of the womb of political correctness. A glorious vision came to me in that moment. Descending like angels, Hunter Rawlings, Susan Murphy, Peter Meinig, Tommy Bruce and Kent Hubbell came to me, clad in white with bright aureoles around their heads, and sang to me, "Zachary, open your doors, open your heart and open your mind." And I did.

My heart exploded with compassion for all living and non-living things. My doors didn't just open, they flew open. All of my openings opened. I mean, I was open. I can say that I've never felt so open in my life as I did at that moment, and I hadn't felt so happy since the time somebody spiked my mojito with ecstasy! And I can speak with such open openness about my openness because I am now so openly open.

And now that my mind has been opened, I've realized what a horrible, callous person I was before. All of my former contempt has been erased and replaced with an unquestioning love for all. I no longer light spiders on fire simply because they are ugly. I now answer my brother's calls and do not tell him that he is a failure. I take every quarter card I am offered on Ho Plaza with a smile. The daily chimes concert, which I used to think sounded as pleasant as a hand grenade exploding in an aluminum trash can, now sounds as delicate as Bach.

In fact, I feel that as an opened individual, I can no longer write this column. Having an opinion inevitably denounces another viewpoint, and that it is not a very open way to think. Adieu, unopened newspaper. Adieu.