the seeker

angharad hughes

only connect

the seeker



Celtic knots are a variety of knots and stylized graphical representations of knots used for decoration, used extensively in the Celtic style of Insular art. Most are endless knots. The endless knot has been described as "an ancient symbol representing the interweaving of the Spiritual path, the flowing of Time and Movement within That Which is Eternal. All existence, it says, is bound by time and change, yet ultimately rests serenely within the Divine and the Eternal.


all the threads in a knot have a purpose. they weave in and out of each other, sometimes touching, sometimes parting, to re-appear somewhere else. they play with each other like dolphins; entangle each other like chains; fly away from each other like birds. this is how our lives are. we move through space and time in an apparently random and meaningless way; yet when we look back, the overall pattern is clear.


some people are happy to let life take them along on its wave, not questioning why or how it will unfold. but some people are impatient; they want to see the pattern and the purpose. these people are seekers. they seek meaning and understanding in the pattern. it is not clear what makes people seekers. it may be the result of sadness at too young an age; the universe shows them pain and loss before they are ready for it. they need to understand why life is so cruel in order to keep putting one foot in front of the other each day.


life is harder for seekers. they yearn for peace and comfort; like a mother’s cool hand smoothing hair away from a fevered forehead. this yearning is like a hole inside that can never be filled.


once upon a time there was a man. he did not know he was a seeker. he just knew sadness and loss and emptiness. he tried to make the emptiness go away with potions and elixirs. they worked for a while, but as soon as they wore off there was the emptiness back again. for many years the man persevered with the potions and elixirs, but it took more and more each time to lose himself. and the emptiness was still there.


eventually the man joined a band of storytellers and soothsayers. he found comfort in their words; they gave meaning to the madness of life. over the years he found peace and a sense of calm. and once his mind was stilled he discovered something else. his feet had their own patterns. the patterns had been there all along but he had not seen them. so the man learned to dance.


dancing is magical. for millenia people have danced; round fires, on beaches, in buildings and fields. they have danced to tell stories; to summon up rain or goddesses, to dull pain and to celebrate joy. but in modern life there is little time for dancing.


when he danced the man moved like liquid; his body knew what to do. and he had another gift - he could show other people the patterns. the man gathered people around him and taught them to dance. he played music that lifted their spirits, he made them laugh. when he spun the women round the floor they felt like princesses. for a short time they forgot their cares and felt beautiful and graceful and complete. they went home floating on air.


sometimes the man felt that he was not achieving much in his life. he looked at his car and his home and compared them with those of people around him. he worried that he was not successful. sometimes he felt he was standing still while life swirled around him.


what the man could not see was what he gave to people with his dancing. there is no ruler that can measure pride and self esteem, except perhaps in how high someone carries their head. not many people can look back on a day’s work and say they made someone feel like a princess.