The Symbolic Voice of Stone

Six years ago I began my journey with stone. A friend of mine had taken a class in beading, she'd invited me along, and I don't remember why but I declined. The following morning, she came to work wearing her creation, a simple necklace made of little heart-shaped glass beads for Valentine's Day. I was impressed, and immediately considered what I might make myself. Not long after, since I didn't heed the first call, I was invited to a regional gem show at the Tacoma Dome by another friend who had no real interest in or knowledge of rocks at all, but thought it might be fun. On the day of, that friend called to say she couldn't go, but I decided to go alone ... thinking I'd drop in for a few minutes and look around.

I soon realized I'd stumbled upon some unusual, secret society, some little known, back-burner, addictive cult after only a moment inside the door. Rock hounds... perhaps there were 100 of them, but it seemed like fewer, for they are a crowd that tends to be hushed and reverent in their mission. These 100 meandered down aisles of tables stacked with glistening mounds of strung beads and haggled with purveyors of every sort of color and shaped stone imaginable, precious and semi-precious, polished and natural crystals and geodes from mines all over the world. And oddly, I felt completely at home. I don't really recall what I purchased that day, but I emerged into the sunlight 5 hours later with a small bag of beads and a million ideas.

That night, many hours later, I awoke to the fullness of the moon besot with the most colorful visions I'd ever experienced. It was as if the stones themselves had released their coded language onto the veil of the night for my viewing pleasure. Beautiful "fairies" lined my head board or frolicked before me in a sea of sparkling violet, among them strange symbols floated by, geometric shapes twinkled, disembodied eyes blinked, tiny flying vehicles came close to my face, and unusual creatures in the shape of paisley prints or amoebas swam before me in brilliant neon greens, pinks, oranges, blues, violets, golds and colors that had no name, because they do not actually exist in our color spectrum. Or ... if they do, those who know haven't told.

I lay on my back with my hands folded over my heart while my body hummed and vibrated, a snapping resonated inside my head as if my brain cells were on fire. I had absolutely no fear, but watched enthralled. I realized some organic form of communication was taking place. Either that, or the proximity to so many powerful crystals had blown my third eye wide open! I watched in awe, a spectator, until the apparition faded an hour or so later.

I jumped from bed the next morning, but couldn't tell my secret to a soul, knowing they would smile and nod but not really understand and certainly never believe. My husband and son are the best of sports, but secretly (I'm nearly certain) twirl their fingers beside their ears when hearing of my exploits. Undaunted, I returned to the gem show that following day and purchased a celestite geode, feeling especially drawn to that crystal the previous day.

Celestite is a silvery blue stone that is mined in the caves of Madagascar. It's crystals glisten like an ice cave and its vibrational quality matches that of the 5th chakra, Vishuddha, the throat. The attraction, I realized, came from my long struggle to find my voice and express my truth through the power of the spoken word. I've kept it in a variety of places since then, but always near me, beside or under my bed, even taking it with me to the ocean for a good cleansing in the Pacific, where I noticed it also matched the color of the sea and the sky ... whether the sun was shining or the rain pouring.

When I hold it near my throat, a powerful tightness seizes my vocal chords and I begin to cough. It reminds me my work is not yet done, as I still struggle with that childhood demon... to be seen and not heard. And, of course, as a woman, many lifetimes of shutting down that voice in order to be considered a good girl, or ladylike, or worthy... for that matter. I still struggle with the fear of being heard. But I am aware of it, and being conscious of my fear is half the battle. Writing helps. The honesty I am able to employ here is certainly freeing.

I have had many such experiences before and after that particular night I witnessed the symbolic voice of stone, but none ever quite so vibrant and perhaps that is because it caught my attention and we've moved on to a new relationship, stone and I; as co-creators with the winged muses, we wrap unsuspecting humans in the healing energy of amethyst, aquamarine, citrine, labradorite and the others. Allowing them to weave their silent melody into the heart of woman. She to reach man, and thus to remember the ancient Soul that has never sinned. A memory only a veil away from Heaven.

In closing, I hope you will touch upon your own Divine curiosity and seek the deep codified secrets trapped in the density of stone. Consider finding a crystal you resonate with, and bring it home. Be prepared to be changed.

Blessed be...

~L