Feira Mística—A Mystical Fair

Meera wandered through the enchanting lanes of the Feira Mística, a mystical fair she had stumbled upon in a flyer at a cosy café earlier that morning. She had been sitting by the window, sipping on her coffee and trying to quiet the turmoil in her mind, when the intriguing images on the flyer caught her attention.

Curious, she had asked the café owner, a cheerful woman with kind eyes, “What does Feira Mística mean?”

The woman’s face lit up as she replied, “It means ‘Mystical Fair’ in Portuguese. It’s a special market that appears every so often—full of handmade treasures, unusual finds, and sometimes…unexpected answers.”

Drawn by the description and a restless need for escape, Meera decided to go. Now, as she wandered through the fair, she found herself enveloped by its magic. Lanterns hung from strings crisscrossing above the stalls, casting a golden glow over the colourful chaos.

The air was alive with the mingling scents of spices, fresh flowers, and fragrant tea. Vendors called out their wares, the clinking of metal trinkets mixing with the soft mesmerising notes of a distant flute.

As she browsed through a stall of handmade pottery, her eyes were drawn to a peculiar vase. It was unevenly shaped, with a visible crack running along one side, but its glaze shimmered in the lantern light, creating an unusual, captivating beauty. Meera picked it up, running her fingers over its imperfect surface.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came a voice behind her. Meera turned to see a woman with striking silver hair and a calm presence. The woman introduced herself as Amaya, a fellow wanderer enjoying the fair. She was holding a small trinket—a necklace.

Meera nodded. “It is. But…I can’t decide if the crack ruins it or adds to it.” 

Amaya’s smile deepened. “A contradiction, isn’t it? That’s what makes it special.”

Intrigued, Meera put the vase back on the table but didn’t walk away. “I’ve been feeling like that lately,” she confessed. “Pulled in opposite directions. It’s like I’m stuck between two truths that can’t seem to coexist.” 

Amaya gestured toward a shaded corner of the fair, where a cluster of cushions and carpets formed a cosy seating area beneath strings of glowing fairy lights. “I know the feeling. Would you like to sit and talk?”

They settled down, the din of the fair softening into the background. Meera found herself opening up about her struggles—the longing for freedom clashing with the need for security, the desire to push herself versus the craving for rest. “It’s exhausting,” she admitted. “How can I feel peace when my mind can’t stop arguing with itself?”

Amaya reached into her bag and pulled out the necklace she had just bought. “Look at this,” she said, holding it up. The necklace had a mix of beads—one was a smooth blue stone, another a jagged piece of amber, with others in varying shapes and textures. “The beads don’t match, but together they’re perfect. What if your contradictions are like this necklace—meant to coexist, not cancel each other out? 

Meera frowned. “That sounds nice, but how do you actually live like that? It feels so…messy.”

Amaya leaned back, her gaze thoughtful. “I think we resist contradictions because we are taught to seek clarity and certainty, as though life is a puzzle we need to solve. But clarity doesn’t always mean neatness. Sometimes, it is about seeing the whole picture, mess and all, and finding your way to hold it without forcing it to align.”

She paused before adding, “When you feel that tension, try this: instead of fighting it, ask yourself, ‘What is this contradiction teaching me?’ Often, the lessons come not from choosing one side but from understanding the interplay between the two.”

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the fair, Meera felt something shift inside her. The noise in her head didn’t disappear, but it softened. She looked at the vase one more time and smiled.

“I think I’ll take it,” she said, lifting the imperfect vase off the table. It would be a reminder—not of perfection, but of the beauty that comes from holding contradictions with grace.

This story is a gentle nudge to embrace the contradictions within ourselves. Like Meera, we often feel torn between opposing desires or emotions, unsure of how to find balance. But perhaps the answer lies not in resolving these tensions but in learning from them. 

What I love about this perspective is how it gently challenges the need for life to fit into a single, tidy narrative—a need that often feels heavy. It reminds us that clarity doesn’t always mean order, simplicity, or a clear-cut, linear path. Sometimes, clarity comes from understanding the complex layers within us and learning to hold space for them. The beauty of the vase isn’t in its perfection, but in the unique story it carries—and perhaps, the same could be true for us.

What is your view on the contradictions we hold within ourselves?