A
touchstone is a reference point against which things can be evaluated. It is an
ideal by which something may be measured. It is a measure by which we can
assess and then discern. Touchstones are a “standard or criterion by which something
is judged or recognized.” A touchstone can be an object of significance. Whether
a memento, a pet, or even the dead , a touchstone is an acknowledgment,
sometimes a memory. A touchstone can be a significant other, a person you
believe completes you and makes you whole. Ideally, this person comes without
criticism and judgements. They love unconditionally and hold great importance.
We turn to our touchstones when we need them the most. We rely on them to
ground us, to bring us back to reality even in the midst of great chaos. Some
of my greatest touchstones are not just people or places. Physical objects in
of themselves hold much meaning. I think we all have little trinkets and
keepsakes that we give not only great sentimental value but they act as a
touchstone, a way to treasure or fear, depending on your state of mind. Like a
cherished old sweater or a picture of your mother, these connections bring us
back to a place and a time without having to venture there ourselves. They act
not only as a reminder but also as an escape of sorts, an otherland of
objectification. We feel them. We see them. We know just what they are and why
they are with us. Almost literally, noting each is like touching a stone. They
can act like old friends if you let them, a safe harbour on a sea of despair. .
I cannot
remember life without it. All these years have passed and it is still with me.
It is one of my first memories. I remember spotting it on the corner cabinet in
our living room when I was six. It sat there for years. When we moved from Toronto
Emma and
Abby met on the first day of kindergarten. They became fast friends and
travelled through their youth together. No one could have been closer. No one
could have been more connected. At least, that is what their youth told them
was the truth. More sisters than best friends, the two shared years together.
For Emma, no one mattered more. As an only child she had wanted a sibling but
Abby was more than she could ever ask for. They were kindred spirits. For Abby,
her pal gave her refuge and sanity in a world that was not so friendly. Em was
an escape from the ravages of abuse. Whenever
she needed to run, whenever she ran, it was always to her bestest friend. There
was sanctuary since the day that they met. High school was a experiment in
torture. Both girls we not on the top of the popular list. This only
strengthened the commitment they had to one another. They joined clubs together
and attended social events in spite of the poor reception. They would laugh and
then they would laugh some more. There was nothing sweeter than the time they
spent together. Eventually, all good things come to an end. After graduation, Emma
moved to Montreal to attend Concordia University New York
City Columbia University
I was born
and raised in Toronto Lake Ontario
When my
first partner died I was left with little choice. I tried to give up only to
have to go on without him anyway. It was humbling to experience such darkness,
such gloom. Out of nowhere there came a glimmer of light. I met Rob and Brenda
when I returned to the United
Church Israel Holy Land . Although, I haven’t seen either Rob or Brenda
for years, I often look back on that time with good thoughts. We just faded
away from each other. Some people come into our lives not to stay but to serve
a purpose then leave. At the time, I had just come out of the closet and in so
doing lost almost all of my friends. Brenda and Rob were hope when all seemed
lost. Their friendship was a pleasant distraction from the reality that I
faced. If I am looking for an example of
hopefulness, I always find it in that small cedar box, sitting on my television
stand with all the other little extras.
I have many
mementos that I cling to for a sense of what once was and what might well have
been. For example, the two collars once warn by our two dead dogs hang about
for all the world to see. One even dangles from the rear view mirror of our
car. My Dad’s fireman badge, sits in glass and safety. His picture, in uniform,
rests beside the silver pin. I have pictures of my mother, and my first
partner, and cuttings from the hair of each. I have people that I turn to in
times of crisis. Some of those people I even turn to on better days. I have
places I can visit when I am looking for any sign of that often elusive peace.
I have many things in my life that act as a touchstone. The security they bring
me may be artificial but its better than nothing, that’s for sure. Anything
that acts in such a capacity, is good for the soul. We need to touch base
sometimes. We need to feel the connection we once had with something. A
touchstone can be a great source for reconnecting, reconnection with the past as well as our own
place within it. We hug our touchstones. We hold them dear. We use them to measure
the things we hold near. In the end, the only thing a touchstone does is
activate whatever rests within each person. All that we call upon is already
there. Sometimes we just need something to tweak us, to awaken that part of us.
This is what a touchstone is for.
Photo
The Old Tin Can
March 2018
Just another piece of the Wall
March 2018
Sources
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.