Unfinished Stories . . .
The fractured pieces ever so carefully positioned to reflect precise and intentional beauty that only emerges when light passes through.
Just think- without the fractures there’d be no definition, no fluidity with change when the dial rotates to make mild adjustments, nor would the light fluctuate just enough to alter the image … no silver linings, no bronze or gold or shimmering around the cracks and unrefined particles, which wait patiently to reflect back something miraculous with those willing to see what this sincere instrument has to offer.
What would life be without the fragments, the flaws, the cracks and broken pieces?
Would things still look pretty, purposeful, poised and inviting; would there be any depth or appeal to the imagination?
How would perfect composition and smooth lines with flawless images tell us anything authentic?
Is the kind of art that reflects the soul of a structure that the artist intended its’ viewer to perceive meant to be simple, complex, raw or refined, or perhaps all of these? Could the dreamer dream without desire for change and growth? Would the creative deep thinker be provoked beyond their own imagination and capabilities without the fragments? Perhaps — and yet perhaps not?
I’d like to believe the kaleidoscope tells us the truth about something deep inside of ourselves.
Truth is messy and chaotic and diverse and complicated, but when the light shines through it there is something majestic, heavenly and magnificent within it; not only bc of its’ composition or inherent value, rather because of what it does to the heart of those looking into it- the ones that takes time with it. To learn it. To understand it. To want to understand it.
It takes time to consider. . . time to perceive. To ask why, as well as to ponder and let a story be told by just looking.
When the beholder of this refined and purposefully composed instrument slightly adjusts its’ angle — to face the shadows or the expanse of bright, wide open skies with curiosity and inhibitions; everything changes.
Those that dare to look deeper. Feel more. Lead with their heart and accept the challenge to face images and their complexities in the same way one might consider those wrapped up in the fragility of mankind; pondering the need to be ‘seen’ for more than what is, rather what might be or what might become or what was, and why- just might benefit something for now or the future?
Those that hold up the tube of what seems so insignificant against holy skies and contemplate within their own souls things worthy of lingering over are truly moved and blessed.
The kaleidoscope- what a perfectly fractured piece of art that the innocence of children seem to understand before the refinement of adulthood presses upon them the demand to filter and refrain; or for the rare among us that dare to look deep, feel deeply and dream with abandonment.
Deep feelers, artists, philosophers, life long learners and those that have lived through darkness that sinks in deep, ever-searching for light all the while beholding their scars with deep gratitude paired with deep pain and sadness. Each one of these people pay a price; their life isn’t about making it through on the surface it’s about so much more …. and most often utterly misunderstood.
Just like those broken pieces of glass that have so much more to offer than the trash bin most often one finds these glass shards tossed away in. But the artist that created the kaleidoscope saw so much more. Again, the intentional digging through those bins looking for them because of the value they possess …. Or imagine all the fractured pieces finding themselves being compressed and forged into something practical, yet unoriginal where beauty is lost. Just like the deep feelers. The sensitive ones that the world displaces because they don’t know what to do with them, so in the fringes they starve and eventually perish never realizing their full potential because the forging and the pressure crushes the pieces of grandeur deep within them. And no one even notices. Man moves too fast to process, to grieve, to change, to dream, to grow- that is unless they pick up the broken pieces and see them for what they are; something beautiful.
Sadly, so much beauty is discarded all around us and yet when it’s not- should an individual actually pause long enough to grasp the intent behind the beauty in brokenness, scars and pain, victories and dreams while in their natural state of unrestricted messiness; what miraculous meaning each small, tiny shard has to offer-but that takes time and acceptance.
Gifts. Each and every single piece glitters like stars in the sky. Dust in the wind. Shells upon a shore. People in the wilderness of foreign nations; barefoot and unrefined. Everything we see reflects something far beyond basic comprehension, yet so worthy of pursuing. Not only for the sake of the object but for the internal threads and inner workings of man. The inner workings that if left undiscovered will cause a ripple effect so slow yet continuous with grave refractions and destruction, so subtle but so serious that the bottom of all that is will crumble apart like a mountain into the sea after an earthquake, so distant would be the damage that it may seem impossible to be connected. And yet it is- just like the threads running through the veins of our bodies and the woundedness in all of humanity, similar to those crevices of the intentionally fractured lines within the reflective kaleidoscope; a simply perplexing item that holds regard far higher than it is ever credited for.
Wouldn’t it be nice to see the delicate nature of both human hearts and fractured pieces of glass held with dignity, awe, wonder, introspection and an honest appreciation for what both pieces of art were designed to be and to become while in their state of constant and continual change?