Journal Entry - Page 1 of 2

28 August 2020

11:11 PM GMT

 

I met with Kirsty Keykeep, Keeper-of-the-Keys, in her home (also known as The Locksmith). The first thing I noticed was the black box which I found on 1 July as I walked along the cobblestone path (out of which 44 keys fell). She told me I could explore her home, as she went off to make a “cuppa”. I wandered about her workshop which consisted of one room measuring about 4 square meters, with relatively small windows in two directions, and a dirt floor. The fixtures consisted of two attached workbenches in front of the windows, with four stools to sit on.

 

A forge and chimney stood in one corner, and a pair of bellows made of wood and leather on one side of the chimney. A large anvil was secured on a thick stump embedded in the floor. There was a small anvil on one of the benches surrounded by many different types of files.

 

The forge was glowing and heated with what looked like ordinary wood – but seemed more like stone or crystal. More of this unusual material was stored in a basket near the larger anvil, nearby was a clay vessel with water in it.

 

Apart from the light created by the hearth and windows, four oil lamps made of metal were also glowing. They were fueled by a greenish oil, and the wicks were made of textile fibers. Very primitive wooden brooms stood in each of the corners. 

 

Kirsty came in with two cups of tea and started talking as if she was continuing a conversation…  

 

“… the first keys appeared about 6,000 years ago in Ancient Babylon at the same time when the first locks were invented. Then they were made of wood, tooth-shaped, quite heavy and bulky, and were used to lift small pins hidden in secret openings near mechanisms that kept gates and doors secured.  Ancient Romans improved on these by making them smaller, lighter, and stronger with iron or bronze. The large flat keys with pins on their ends evolved into skeleton keys which were simple round shafts with one single, usually rectangular tooth. This is what we use today,” she said as she finally placed the ‘cuppa’ (cup of tea) in front of me.

 

“I am a Locksmith. Locksmithing, as its name implies, is the assembly and designing of locks and their respective keys.” She goes on, “but keys are not just useful to open and close doors or boxes or gates, but are also objects of symbolic meaning. They connect us to gateways and portals, doorways to the unknown, to knowledge, mysteries, powers, initiations, new ways, hidden things and answers to curious questions. The ancient Bears Down Under used keys as a symbol for knowledge and life. To own a key was a rite-of-passage so to speak.”

 

I listened intently as she continued without pause.

 

“… locks are merely a mechanical device for securing a door or container so that it cannot be opened except by a key or by a series of manipulations that can be carried out only by a person knowing the secret or code.  I have a lock puzzle for you before you go.”

 

We both take a sip of the sweet-smelling tea.

 

“… they are generally used to keep ourselves and our things safe. But many use locks as a symbol of attachment or sacred commitment.  Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote

‘Love is the master key that opens the gates of happiness’.”

 

While she spoke I looked around the bench where our tea sat still steaming. I noticed an assortment of tools; a small sledgehammer, hammers, chisels, a hacksaw, a hollow punch, more files than I could count. As I looked around the bench Kirsty went on.

 

“… files are an important tool for a locksmith.” She picked up a few and explained, “their cross sections are square, triangular, or tapered and they are used for fine key and lock work after the object had been shaped on the anvil. I made these myself. For most, locks are a mystery. Their outer housing conceals their inner workings and that feature is part of their intrigue."

 

Kirsty takes a deep breath, but before I could ask why locks were needed in Arktos-By-The-Sea she explains.

 

“For the Bears Down Under a lock isn’t necessary for safety, it’s more of a symbol. It is a representation of our connection to each other (including the ancient ones and the writer of the Ancient Book). This lock, for example," (she holds up the black box I had found early in my quest), "represents dignity, integrity, deciphering languages, acquiring knowledge, seeking wisdom, and a reminder to always guard one’s promise.”

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Still holding the black lock, she picks up the key I found, and continues… “at first glance, these two items may seem very different, different in form, different in purpose, different in design. Most who look at them might think of them as opposites; one is meant to open and the other meant to remain closed. Yet, you see Professor PJ, without one, the other becomes useless. The Bears Down Under see that both the lock and the key were created for the same purpose – to instruct us, and remind us of what is important.”

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As I take my last sip of tea, Kirsty ends the conversation as suddenly as it began.

 

"These are for you.” She hands me a puzzle, a paper with a poem

‘The Room of Ancient Keys’ by Елена Михалкова (she asked me to share it with those

who may need these words, for she knows the troubles that exist beyond

Arktos-By-The-Sea), a few riddles (“Just for fun,” she adds). She ends by saying,

 

“Professor PJ, remember every key fits a lock, and every lock holds a mystery.”

 

As I leave Kirsty’s home I am flooded with new ways of thinking and feeling. I feel Arktos-By-The-Sea beginning to whisper secrets to me through its inhabitants, their ways of seeing, their ways of knowing. Things that were previously implausible and sights once invisible are now becoming an intricate and meaningful language.

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Go to the next page for a drawing of Kirsty's workshop, The Room of Ancient Keys poeme, riddles and puzzles.

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