The Piece below, is where each journey starts. A place that I call
The Hallway of Beginnings.
If you like, you can listen to me, reading the story, just press play.
Stillness and quiet are here, in the hallway of beginnings, the light is dim and seems indistinct in its origins. Dark plain chairs sit at intervals along the wall, waiting for the tired, or perhaps the unwilling, to take advantage of their broad seats and definite position. The long room is chiefly there to house the many doors that lead off into the undiscovered reaches of the house, doors of opportunity that invite exploration. Some are proud and regal suggesting high drama and beauty, success and royalty perhaps, maybe the doors to long silenced ballrooms, and the forgotten whispers of heated dancers, in corners, eloping with iced sherberts. Others are shabbier and more unused, lurking behind listing lintels, unsure of their provenance, dusty studies maybe, crammed with the broken pages of arts long since forgotten, and journeys that seem no longer impossible in our ‘modern’ age.
A polished wooden floor glows, worn to a comfortable lustrous texture by the steps of centuries rather than by the application of wax and the ministering of some assiduous housekeeper, whilst a long wooden staircase rises from the center of the hallway, it rises at an angle that suggests a modicum of wealth, but not an assumption of excess, nor the steepness of the poor, the steps curving softly with use, like the sag of a mother’s breast.
The landing above contains yet more doors, all as individual yet as secretive as the ones below, some of them bear names above the door, and several of them I have been through. Sunlight sometimes bathes this upper hallway, flooding in from a window that I can never clearly see, sending motes of dust spiraling upwards into the soft and infinite gloom of the upper reaches of the house.
But for now, I am concentrating on the “Tarot” door, the one I use to explore the Thoth Tarot, one card at a time, in order to understand this mystical and wondrous thing. This door is paneled in six heavy rectangles, and the handle is of brass, and as I open the door, the image of the card hangs like a veil between my world and the world of the card. Sometimes it is difficult to get through this part, some cards are more inviting, and give up their images more readily, whilst others seem stubborn and less ready to share. As with most things I am sure, it is all in the eye of the beholder, and with a mind open to wonder, I step through the veil………