I am mesmerized by keys.
I collect antique keys and make them into necklaces. I love the look and feel of old metal keys. I imagine their history. Who used them? How many people have owned the thing that this key unlocks? How many hands have touched these keys?
This tiny bit of metal is all that is required to open up this huge door, this wall that is standing before me like a bouncer at a club, saying None May Pass. This tiny thing is all I require to gain access to my heart’s desire.
Perhaps this fondness comes from Alice in Wonderland. Everything got a little strange when she fell down that rabbit hole – but to me the first really strange part was when she encountered that tiny door behind the curtain.
She had the key, but she couldn’t figure out the right sequence to use the door.
I like keys like this, and stories like this. I like real keys and imaginary keys. I like what keys represent.
I have a TARDIS key. You know, just in case. Just in case time and space travel is real, I’m ready if Doctor Who just happens to leave that beautiful, mad, blue box parked along my walking path that day. It is good to be prepared.
I have a key to a phone booth. I have a key to a piano. I have a key to a Ford that was driven long before I could even say the word “automobile”.
These keys are beautiful and poetic and sad. They are missing their locks. They are missing their purpose.
But I keep them anyway. You never know.
They are kind of a focus, a meditation tool. Always be prepared. Notice that it is a small thing that opens a large thing.
What doors are in front of me? What is barring my way? What have I not even noticed is a door, that is preventing me from getting where I need to be?
If you have a key, you’ll be reminded of the door. One points towards the other.