Great story, Curtis. Again, that is *exactly* what I had in mind when I brought up this subject. It's not the actual "pedigree" of the object that matters; it's what it means to US.
If a rock or an oyster shell or a shard of Anasazi pottery has a special meaning to US, who cares if it has any worth or value to the world at large. Relics is as relics do, in my book. If gazing at the object reminds us of a high, shiny, wonderful moment in which we realized something, well then that object is a kind of doorway or portal *back* to that moment of realization, any time we want to step through it. It doesn't *matter* what value the object has for others, as long as it "works" for us, to uplift and inspire. If it accomplishes that, who really cares whether it is "worth" thousands of dollars to others, or whether it is worth bupkus. Its worth to US is where it takes us. --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "curtisdeltablues" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > Great topic and great stories Marek and Turq, > > I have used objects as anchors for states of mind. One that comes to > mind was a simple oyster shell that I picked up from the water off > Jane's Island on the Chesapeake Bay. It is not a collector's shell, > it is downright ugly. I keep in my car and run into it when I am > rummaging around looking for something else. > > It is tied to a decision I took a few years ago to stop telling people > who told me that they kayaked that " I would love to do that someday." > Living in an apartment, I didn't see how it could happen until I > found a fantastic inflatable kayak. I pumped it up and went out on > the Potomac like a leaf in the ocean and it changed my life! I > planned a solo trip to Jane's Island which is on one of the world's > biggest estuaries, a primal source of life. > > I hadn't camped since I was a kid so I bought a tent and headed out. > While paddling through the tall marsh grasses,I found myself looking > into the water where so much life begins, crabs, oysters, etc. I saw > a complete oyster shell, sun bleached out. My voyage around the > island was only impressive for me, because it was so far outside my > box at the time. I didn't wait for someone to do it with me. I just > rolled the dream with what I had, an inflatable boat and an idea. > > Seeing the shell immediately brings me back to a moment of dream > fulfillment and self re-creation. I became the kind of guy who > inflates a kayak and heads out to a new body of water just to look > around. It reminds me that such choice points are always available > even though I too rarely, take the plunge down the rabbit hole. My > shell reminds me of that self creative power. > > Thanks for the reminder of its meaning. I'll have to figure out what > other area of my life could use a little busta-move energy! > > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, TurquoiseB <no_reply@> wrote: > > > > --- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, "Marek Reavis" <reavismarek@> > > wrote: > > > > > > Great topic, Turq, I'm interested to hear what people write about. > > > > > > An important object for me along these lines is natural rather than > > > manufactured, but the circumstances of finding it and it's resonance > > > with me and its link to my dearest friend has kept it in a place of > > > honor wherever I've lived for the last 25 years or so. > > > > > > It's a single, six-point antler from a Roosevelt Elk. It's about 15 > > > lbs., approximately 40-inches long, entirely intact but along three > > > of the tines shows the gnaw marks of the small animals who use > > > fallen antlers as a source of calcium in their diet. The marks of > > > their teeth on the tips of the antlers are like the chisel marks in > > > a stone sculpture. Over time they would have reduced the antler to > > > nothing. > > > > > > I had left Fairfield with my family in 1983, after living there for > > > 2 years. We had auctioned off everything we had, bought a trailer > > > and headed out west as gypsies. A few weeks later we found > > > ourselves in the Pacific Northwest on the Olympic peninsula of > > > Washington staying with a friend, an artist (see, tocfetch.com), who > > > had a little house on the cliffs overlooking the Straits of Juan de > > > Fuca. We parked our trailer in the yard and stayed for several > > > months. > > > > > > One day during that period my friend and I were bushwacking in the > > > interior of the Olympics, along a ridgeline not too far above the > > > Elwha River. Somewhere along the way we got separated from one > > > another. As I was walking through the forest by myself I found the > > > antler, all by itself, just pure and pristine. For some reason, I > > > had always wanted to find a full antler; it was just a long-standing > > > desire I had. I was elated and about an hour later, when I joined > > > up again with my friend I brandished it over my head in greeting and > > > in triumph. > > > > > > He had found pieces of antlers in the past, but never a full rack > > > and he couldn't believe that I had stumbled across such a specimen > > > in one of my first outings while he hadn't been as fortunate even in > > > a couple of years of looking. He demanded to know where I found it > > > because he wanted to go back and search for the twin. I told him I > > > had no idea where in the forest it was where I had found it and no > > > telling whether the elk had dropped the mate in the same area anyway. > > > > > > But he wouldn't take no for an answer, and as best I could I led us > > > to a place in the forest that "looked" like the place, but I really > > > had no idea. I sat around for over an hour as he systematically > > > pored over the forest floor, moving farther and farther away in his > > > search until he was gone from view. After a long time I heard > > > whooping and hollering and he came back to where I was with the mate > > > to mine. > > > > > > His antler has been prominent in his studio, wherever he has lived > > > since then, and mine similarly. A good, powerful bond. > > > > Cool. That's exactly what I had in mind. Such > > objects somehow become a way for us to "link" > > to moments of power in the past. > > >
