August, 1975
There it was …
after five hours of flight time,
an endless train ride to
… and various other miracles …
a hillside grove of giant ancient beech trees,
home … doubtless … to
who knows how many mischievous nature spirits
and perhaps Pan himself,
cut at its edge by a rocky chasm
splashing sparkling salmon-jumping cold
River Findhorn,
fresh from higher up
heather-covered peat-filled highland moors.
The place was where
jumped the chasm,
evading enemies in close pursuit, called
Nearby, yet way below me
where I gazed at the awesome river,
I became aware of a gray boulder
dividing the water,
egg-shaped, resting on it’s side,
as tall as a man,
summoning my attention.
The gray of the rock-hard egg was tightly bound
by two encircling bands of quartz-like white,
as if to hold it totally contained,
secure, safe.
The boulder then shook me to my core.
It said: I am you and you are me,
and I knew it was true!
So much for inanimate rocks!
I had traveled thousands of miles
for a boulder in the middle of a Scottish river
at a place called
to awaken me to how bound up tight
I had become,
opening me to the possibility
of making a leap of my own.
(Scotland, August 1975, just before
becoming a member of the
Findhorn Community)
Jon Drake photos
© 2006 by Robert G Blakesley
2 Comments:
May be this is the rock in Roberts poem. A very nice blog it is too.
Jon, thanks so very very much for the Randolph's Leap pics! I'm not sure if the boulder is the one in my poem but it could be.
Don't know if you remember, but you were the one that picked me up hitchhiking to Findhorn on the last leg of my leap into I knew not what. I remember that you seemed slightly dubious about what I was doing but reassured me that there would probably be a place for me to stay at least for that night.
Wow, how it all changed my life, and looking back now, what an incredible journey since(!!!)
Post a Comment
<< Home