A River Of Stones: Stone Number Thirty-One

Looking at the candle flame, I notice how it skips along to the rhythm of my tappety-typing on my keyboard. There is an intense link suddenly, for me, between ancient and modern light.

A River Of Stones: Stone Number Thirty

A lone pine tree stands at the base of the piste. I notice there is a bare space, free of snow at the roots. A perfect seat for a weary traveller. I lay on my hand, ask the tree if I can sit. The tree tells me this is the reason the space is there.

A River Of Stones: Stone Number Twenty-Nine

The flowing of words onto a page. Without thinking too much about where they come from, and yet, still they flow, like water flowing over a waterfall despite the Salmon trying to jump up-stream.

A River Of Stones: Stone Number Twenty-Eight

I have felt that my energetic roots have gone down into the earth and interconnect with every other person who has also let themselves open up and unfurl within the earth. We are easy to see, because we are blossoming above the ground too.

A River Of Stones: Stone Number Twenty-Seven

My upper back aches. Here. Right between the shoulder-blades. Why could that be? I move my head to the left. Click. To the right. Click. I wonder if sitting at the kitchen table typing on the laptop is doing me any favours? When I close my eyes, I see myself in plough pose. Arms stretched, reaching above my head along the floor. Toes touching the floor above my head. Maybe this is what my guides are telling me I need to do in order to release the many little knots that reside in my muscles.

A River Of Stones: Stone Number Twenty-Six

Despite the cold and the gently falling snow, I can hear the birds still singing as life continues.

A River Of Stones: Stone Number Twenty-Five

I can feel the tension in my shoulders and I wonder why I am still holding on to it there. It feels like ancient grief and heartbreak trying to break out.