Sea of Stones – 2

30 11 2006

As the night-fire grows dim, banked just enough to insure that the breath of morning will bring rebirth, I ponder over what has touched me this day.  Some might call it a ritual – others a form of prayer, but for me it is a more ancient call.  In the Alani traditions of my ancestors the day begins with such banking of the fire rather than the rising of the sun, and I must pay attention to staff and pouch and scroll before beginning the night’s spirit journey.  More of that later …


for now I simply reflect on what life has offered me – chatter amongst the villagers, scribblings from students, a tiny pebble in my sandal, deep thoughts from fellow travelers, a special arrangement of branches and flowers, a passage from a famous book, the view of Lake Bohinj at sunset    what of these will affect my values, standards and creative hopes?  A Christian mystic noted, “because my house is in order my soul is at rest.”  The same can be found in diverse cultures and language – so it must be true, or at least worthy of believing.  My eyes droop as I ask the three questions of the Turqusii;  where do I find that which is useful, who do I believe and in what do I trust?


During my slumber I also receive messages from realms beyond my practical perception, but surely as valuable a source of answers as any other – yet no better either.  Information comes in and sometimes wisdom comes out – and what else is a Gusari for – or thee?  I awake with a start – churning spirit and mind – thoughts to be set down – words not recorded until now, as they whisper from a time before writing, before history then …


First I tend to the fire so that new friends may find a welcome start to their day – then I write:





It is said in challenge or jest

that a man’s soul is like a lake,

and that a pebble dropped in

will cause ripples on endless shores,

and the waters n’er be the same.


As truth of this I know a place

where the pure waters sit tranquil

from gift of windless glacial snow

and depth unknown except in faith,

that a stone’s fall will be revealed.


You need but observe its decent

to grasp the depth of life itself –

your time allowed and gifts endowed

with a choice of what ripples swell

to touch heart and soul in trust.


Yet each man’s pride defeats it all,

for a frozen lake ripples not –

and such calm pristine clarity

also reflects one’s human face

that naught is seen of God at all.




it seems then, my friends, that I must allow your eyes to see for me, your hearts to leap for joy in my stead, your spirit to gather my tears.  Aye, I may not choose to believe a single thought you offer – but I must believe in YOU …


of this I know,

and of this

am The Duuran




2 responses

1 12 2006


1 12 2006

Something in your writing stirs ancient memories in me…

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

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

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: