[Party] Celebration of Broken Mirrors and True Things
The invite that I sent out. If you didn’t get a copy any you know where I live chances are it was an oversight and you’re probably invited (except if you’re a relative). I feel my invite list is probably a bit out of date these days.
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What: Celebration of Broken Mirrors and True Things
When: March 25th, 8PM
Where: [Address Snip]
How: See Below
Why:
I reach for the mirror and I should feel something, even if that thing is my mirror twin’s hand. I should feel its fingertips, cold and smooth, but they should be there. I am denied even that. My mirror sits empty. Where my soul should be, where my presence should be out in the real world, where depth should be, there is only the emptiness.
I press my hand against the barrier between worlds, the barrier between the inside world and the outside world. The barrier between the life I live and the life I should live. I bring my fist smashing against my prison door. It thuds dully, but is otherwise unimpressed.
I smash and smash and thrash. I cry and rage against the window to the real world, but it denies me. I open my mouth and try and wail, but there is only silence. My eyes burn.
My head crashes against the mirror. My blood shot eyes look through the mirror to the other side. The Great Gallery is filled with other windows into other souls. Other mirrors. The Gallery in the real world is empty of those solid figures of depth but the mirrors each hold the souls of the men and women who should be there.
I look at them through through three worlds. I know I need to escape from my prison and commune with my fellow prisoners. I can see in their eyes and know that they seek their own freedom as well. The mirror laughs. I can feel it sneering at me, mocking me, playing its game.
Then I hear it, a sound that moves between worlds and echoes through the gallery and a thousand private souls and prisons. It is the first sound I’ve ever heard here in my two dimensional world. It starts as a thrum, a low sound that the rattles the center. My true nature knows the sound, it has heard it before. It is the sound I think I should make when I try and scream. But it doesn’t come from in here, it isn’t from my throat, it comes from out there in the Gallery or beyond the Gallery in the other mirrors and souls.
I throw my head back and join in the sound. It starts as a feral howl, but before long it becomes a harmony and a rhythm. There’s my part and theirs. Each one telling a true story with their own singular truth. There’s the naivete of the beginning, of something starting. I allow it to wash over me spring from me. It becomes part of me, but at the same time it frightens me.
Then there is a silence that stretches for two and then three counts.
Then at the mirrored window I hear the raps and taps of someone knocking at my nature. There is the silence before the soul sounds begin again. The pitch increases until it isn’t so much heard as felt. Then there is the sound of claws on glass.
The cricking and creaking extends for two and then three counts.
Then there is the shattering of everything I know, broken into a thousand parts. All of us have our shards shattered across the gallery. I can see little pieces of mirrored glass spread across the marbled floor. My very nature is broken into a thousand parts and sent flying to the thousand parts of the others.
The pieces of soul come away from the shards. I can see the apparitions floating above their pieces. I begin to move among them, stopping to let essences touch. Knowing where others are the same as me, but also where
they possess a different nature.
As we move among each other the music begins again subtly changed as we are changed by our communion with our fellows. Our sense of togetherness overwhelms what we remember ourselves, but we become a new, true, thing. We celebrate our sense of belonging, our sense of knowing our sense of being free.
And so we move and belong from sunset to midnight. From midnight until the new sun burns away the illusions and and new truth burns before our eyes. Then tentatively one by one voices our made quiet as my companions retreat back into themselves. Soon it becomes it becomes hazy and I loose my sense of them.
When next my eyes opens it is morning and I am back in my soul. I am back in silence and I am alone. But at the same time I am not alone, I can close my eyes an conjure the true thing of belonging and it gives me comfort.
It ends as it began with memory and expectation of touching another.
In the name of the broken mirrors and the true thing, I ask that you join me in an event of spiritual definition. In future generations they will speak of what was made true when souls were let loose and came together. One of those nights approaches and we must lift our voice and play our part in becoming human and belonging to the song and story.
To that end I invite you to join me at a Celebration of Broken Mirrors to be held at my house on Saturday, March 25th at 8pm. Zen Brewism will provide a keg of Veritas Stout and a keg of Soulful Hefewiezen in addition to various other libations. The standard amount of chips, dips, vegetables and nuts shall be provided to the best of my ability and foresight.
As always, couches and floors can be yours for a night (they can’t leave the premises), but pillows and blankets are a commodity.
I welcome one and all and hope to see you there.
March 25th, 8PM at Todd’s Great Gallery
[Address Snip]
[Directions Snip]
See you there.