I seem to notice symbolism popping up in day-to-day life. I wonder if it is symbols within my mind that are sometimes not truly tangible. They stand sometimes like a moose in a desert and other times like a brown snake wrapped and camouflaged around a tree.
If you see a moose in a desert, it is obvious what it is. When a snake is around a tree of the same color, it may seem an illusion at first and may only become reality if you stick around for long enough. That is just how symbols appear.
I listen very intently to songs, intently enough to overestimate their true meanings. My favorite hidden symbolism is the song “Little Freak” by Harry Styles. The song talks about a girl named Jezebel and her perfection while being slightly different than the norm. Although this is probably his intention, I listened with a different story. I adored the Kingdom Keepers series growing up, which was about five kids who were chosen to become saviors of the Disney parks from villains. Although it is a cheesy children’s series, the lyrics seem to follow a character. One of the main characters is Jessica, who has prophetic dreams and is momentarily turned into Maleficent’s daughter. The point is, listening to the song, phrases like “stay green a little while, You bring blue lights to dreams,” pointedly added to my evidence, and with the point that she goes by the name Jezebel when transformed. It was such an odd thought, but I couldn’t avoid what was sung. No one has understood my reasoning past surface-level understanding.
That is only one specific example of finding symbols in my life. A streak that I interpret as a shooting star after getting a good grade on a test is the universe’s congratulations, and the dog that appeared amidst tears is my sign that everything will work out.
It would make sense that all of these have no relation to each other or myself. My mind connects them to try and make sense of the mess that my life is and has been. It helps me understand why I feel a certain way or why certain things keep happening. So many times, when I reflect on my life, I don’t understand myself. I don’t know why I get distracted, why I’m so nervous to stand in a line, or why the two things that can calm me down when I get shots are my mom’s hand and 101 Dalmatians. I don’t understand why, when I’m in Disney World, I have a giddy feeling like a child or why I feel like I’m on top of the world when I’m in a dark room, improving at dance. I don’t understand why I sit in my car and cry on the way to dance or why I freak out when I have to take action and do something new. No matter what my friends, family, doctors, or therapist have to say, I feel like I can’t figure myself out, and neither can anyone else. The symbols that pop up make connections between my broken life and string it slowly back together. So when I’m in my car crying so hard I can barely see past the wheel, I explain my misery by the downpour of rain that creates a visual block.
I always think that English classes are ridiculous for the constant symbols they form in every aspect, but I tend to think that it is not uncommon. I find myself creating symbols out of a simple carrot that is shown in two scenes. I think that maybe it fits me more than I believe.
