A Symbolic Encounter

Just like existence itself, words and descriptions are elusive by nature. To be who we are and then let go, to float between immersing in it all and hiding from it all and back again, is an affair as real as it is invisible.

I saw it in a dark, dusty corner of a large hardware store filled with clutter and immediately was drawn into its world. This, for me, was common. Flower vases tell me stories that go far beyond their obvious purpose or the way they look. This one, in particular, was a factory produced squat wobbly shaped brown vase with abstract white drawings. But in spite of its commonness, my ears were in tune with the language it spoke.

I heard the story of a supporting actress, crucial to the plot yet always in someone’s shadow – a permanent bridesmaid to ever-changing brides, her appearance toned down even when glorious. As I listened to tales of loyalty and compassion, her tone rang of calmness. She knew she would once quietly fulfill her destiny nurturing others and witnessing many a spotlight.

Much about the character of reality escapes me. But carrying the bag in which she rested wrapped up in gravelly paper, I have never been more certain about being that vase myself.

img_20141103_105134 xxx

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