I stole a symbol.
I have worn it as jewelry for almost forty-two years. I have earrings and necklaces and many gifts that remind me of the ‘Why’ of my life, because of this symbolic, solid reminder.
There is such a romantic and mysterious story that accompanies my symbol, but I must go back many, many years to explain. I must go back to 1981.
This part of my story is all about me. I was devastated and alone, living in extreme poverty of mind. I was placed in a situation, beyond my control, that dictated choices.
I was raised in a family where I knew love and truth.
In high school and college, though, I chose to live an imaginary life. I chose to hold in my heart acting, theatre arts, and great writers of antiquity. My favorite writer: Euripides. He wrote a play that I felt ‘destined’ to perform. I have never wanted to play a part as deeply as I wanted this one. The play: Trojan Women, the part, Cassandra. She was the Seer. Many may have no idea who Euripides is, or why I would be interested in a story written in 415 B.C. The only answer is that I studied it and saw myself as a character in it.
Trojan Women is such a minor part of my symbol story, that it gets just this mention. All you need to know about Euripides, for my story, is that he wrote tragedies. I cast myself in this ancient drama.
My symbol was a silver triangle.
I lived in Austin Texas. There was this wonderful quirky place in Austin called The Drag. Artisans lined the streets of The Drag, bringing a hippy, artsy, weird vibe to the town.
I was like many others in the early 1980s. I had to know who I was and why I was.
I was completely alone.
As I walked The Drag one day, my attention veered. I wasn’t interested in the glitter and gold being sold. There was a foreign silversmith. He was taking orders for hand crafted original creations.
I asked him if he would make a necklace for me. I wanted an equilateral triangle. I did not want it pretty and shiny. I wanted it hammered. I wanted it pocked and pitted.
He was confused and asked for clarification. He asked me why and what it meant to me. I told him I grew up in Christianity but I couldn’t believe it anymore. I told him that the only thing I wanted was a beat up piece of silver that would represent me.
We agreed to trust each other.
When I returned to The Drag on the specified day, he was there. We were both surprised with the other. He pulled out a very small and dainty silver triangle. Truthfully, I was a little disappointed at first. I wanted it to be bigger and bolder, but it was perfectly hammered. Both sides, front and back, were crafted by a man who took the vision of what I wanted and shaped it; unexpectedly delicate. Hammered, but yes, it was my life.
No one ever asked.
Jana was wearing a pretty little triangle. That was all.
Until I was found by someone. I don’t know her name but she had a deaf child with her. I was fascinated watching them speak in Sign. There is so much intuition and expression in Sign Language. It seemed to me to be much more than a coincidence that I wanted to learn, and here was someone who knew. I started a conversation with her, asking entirely too many personal questions. She gave me the name of someone who might be interested in teaching me sign language on the side.
But I stole a symbol.
It meant nothing to anyone but me and a silversmith from Australia who knew a tad bit of my story.
I stole a symbol that meant to me that I could be spiritual and I could approve of an unknown God. I was not, however, interested in Jesus. The God of the Universe would understand that I’d been beaten and abused by this dirty world. I had an understanding with this unknown Entity. Until. The woman who was willing to teach me American Sign Language was the interpreter at a church.
No. My world of imagery and smoldering sorrow. The tragic story I cast for myself.
How could I open up to someone like her? Someone like that.
Jana on fire.
It was because I stole a symbol.
Coming soon.
No One Will Ask (Part 2)
(Mystery, Romance and symbol reveal.)