Searching for answers to complex questions, seeking an explanation that would bring both relief and understanding, I sometimes find little helpers on the road. Mostly, when I do not expect them.
Signposts of the numinous.
Everyday objects, discarded or lost, random items, oddities, objets trouvés, readymades, waiting to become part of someone’s story-line. To be imbued by new life, an individuality, give service in offering meaning. In an art-form or a thought-form. Create stories of mundane resurrection.
It’s usually when I’m going about my business, or taking a walk, thinking of some specific task or path, but processing a feeling, floating in the space in-between my emotional world, and objects I can see and touch. These diamonds in the dust enter the mental camera frame we always have on the ready, from way before we were given cell-phones to commemorate each moment by duplication. They catch my inner eye, that human knack for creating an already existent reality, soaking in my soul’s spotlight, becoming (somehow) sharper in focus than anything else surrounding them.
If I give them my time, they offer resolution. Maybe even, absolution. Translating patiently an intricate code, revealing a mystery to the limited capacities of my own ability for words. This missing piece of a vast emotional puzzle makes patterns suddenly recognisable, and allows them to be gently unweaved, rather than broken. Tracing back the crumbs that led us into the dark forest of despair, where we often find ourselves when following a long-forgotten spell. They come from magic to undo magic.
These pavement oracles, meadow prophets, dustbin philosophers, they demystify the symbolic and make the mundane sacred. And yet, we pass them by, day by day, until we give them our devoted attention.
When one is in sincere pursuit of a truth, the Soul of the World responds, with care.
AUTHOR: ©Milana Vujkov