epiphany

I was just sitting here looking at things I have collected over time. Little things that seem to have noting in common with each other. An arrowhead I found while gardening in Alabama, a basket made of birch, a little plaque that says "I am not African because I was born in Africa, I am African because Africa was born in me", a brass replica of a Viking ship, candles, an acorn, a poetry book and so many other little things like that.

I began to wonder why I have them, other than the simple reason I love them. What could they all mean? How do all these things speak as a whole conversation in a single topic other than "Val loves us". Munching on my bowl of barley cereal it came to me.
They all speak of things past. The beloved sense of old being made new in my life. They all connect to a time when nature was or is God and of wonder and growth. They speak of life and death and life again. They sound of poetry and meaning in all that is basic instinct and tribal. Not one piece says "I am modern and cold"

Could this be the story of me and my path? A loving connection to all that is old all that is of earth, of sky, of water and fire? What a cycle to learn rom only to find its been in my soul from the beginning.