Epiphany of a Gypsy.

cartography#TataZicaMarthon,#Navigation,#impact.

Sometimes things pop up in the most unexpected way. I like to think that it does appear when the time or rather we are in the right frame to accept that information and convert it to knowledge. When I wrote myself, I kept calling myself a gypsy meandering on a mythical journey in search of the mystic Shambala or utopia. Shambala was more spiritual while Utopias sounds more political.

It popped into my space, it sounded cool and did not conform I liked the feel of it, gypsies were after all nomads, enchanting song, rare beauty and clever tricks. The concept of the wild wanderess ensnared my soul and led me, through an interesting journey where you will find me now. But last evening I saw myself for the first time.

It was as if the universe just had to bang it on to my face. The first part of the message was “my about me,” the entire day the word cartography and cartomancy kept flitting in and out of my mind and sometimes on the tip of my tongue.

It is as if the universe was saying, you meandered for a reason, it is your karma, you didn’t understand it all the while, nor do you understand it right way, you will in the future as of now you just need to recognize, that you are a cartographer.

A cartographer  a person who makes maps. Maps.. Uncharted territory the universe replied. A map does not just chart, it unlocks and formulates meaning, it forms bridges between here and there between disparate ideas that we did not were previously connected. There are parts of our lives that we don’t understand, in the language of the cartographer these places are called sleeping beauties. They were there within every one.

Like geographic maps, there are life maps too. And neither of the map making is a precise art. People do tend to start with good intentions and then get so carried away with spouting whales, monsters, waves and other twiddle bits of cartographic ornaments, that they often forget to put in the boring mountains and river in at all.

I realized I do see the maps in crypts of the minds, and many times they say something to me. this is not as strange or exotic as it sounds, nor is it something unheard of, before maps the world was limitless. It was the maps that gave it shape and made it seem like territory, something that could be possessed, not just laid waste and plundered. Maps mde places on the edges of the imagination graspable and placable.

When there are no maps,

I go by dark ways, unclean ways. if such a map existed it would be beyond price. Nameless cult would battle in the low places of the earth for such a price. Dreams would starve themselves in endless visions seeking its location.  Like I mentioned before, maps do not just chart, it unlocks and formulates meaning, it forms bridges between here and there, between disparate ideas that we did not know were previously connected … and I was the cartographer.

A labyrinth may be a symbolic journey.. but it is a map we can really walk on, blurring the difference between map and the world. I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think  have ended where I needed to be.

Thanks Universe for driving the realization home

 

p>This blog post is inspired by the blogging marathon hosted on <a href=”https://www.indiblogger.in”>IndiBlogger</a&gt; for the launch of the <a href=”http://madeofgreat.tatamotors.com/tata-zica-social-center&#8221; target=”_blank”>#Fantastico Zica from Tata Motors. You can  apply for a test drive of the hatchback Zica today.

 

#Fantstico (7)

 

 

Published by

parwatisingari

full time mother and role play at being, dentist,dramatist, dancer, dreamer

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s