The Hamsa: The Hand That Does Not Hold
Some symbols shout. Others whisper.The Hamsa does neither; it watches. A hand, open and unwavering.An eye, set where a palm should be.Found in homes, around necks, pressed into thresholds or…
Some symbols shout. Others whisper.The Hamsa does neither; it watches. A hand, open and unwavering.An eye, set where a palm should be.Found in homes, around necks, pressed into thresholds or…
A ring is never just a circle. It begins as a shape; smooth, closed, perfect.But over time, it becomes something more:an orbit, a ritual, a contract, a cipher.In gold, iron,…
We are meaning-makers.But we are also meaning-holders.And sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is not reach. You feel it in moments of silence, when the question arrives, and you…
Some objects don’t belong to a moment.They belong to memory. A ring passed down. A scarf with frayed edges.A watch that ticks not just with seconds, but with the echo…
Echoes Beyond the Veil There are no lyrics. Only breath; stretched thin across time, across distance, across silence. Echoes Beyond the Veil is not a playlist. It’s a descent, or…
Before there were buildings, there were borders.Before the ritual, the perimeter.The square emerged; not to inspire, but to define. It is the shape of foundation. Of corners and consequence.Four sides,…
Some materials warm to the body. Others resist it. Metal is among the latter; a quiet refusal, a cool whisper of something forged rather than born. When worn, it doesn’t…
We are taught to polish, to perfect, to preserve.But Wabi-Sabi suggests something else:that the cracked, the faded, the incomplete; these are the marks of truth. In a world that accelerates…
Some moments don’t require words. They require presence. A job interview. A funeral. A first meeting. A final one. We call them milestones, but in truth, they are thresholds;ritual crossings…
Morning in Amalfi Not all mornings begin with alarms. Some begin with open shutters, the scent of citrus, and a melody drifting in from somewhere just out of sight. Transmission…
Two circles. One center. A space formed by overlap; neither one nor the other. The Vesica Piscis is not a shape. It is a tension. A moment of convergence.A sacred…
It begins as a single link. Then another. And another.Each one dependent on the last,forming a line that is not a path, but a tether.The chain does not move forward.…