Your imagination and dreams are thoughts and plans yet to be interwoven - always remember though your mind works best when it is open.
This tale, if it is a tale, is one born from the workings of either my over active imagination, which over the years so many of my students will testify to, extensive research or could it just be everything I believe in? I’ll leave you to consider these choices. Always remember though, above anything else you are about to read, it has to be your choice, you and only you can believe what you want to believe. I can plant the seeds, but it’s your choice to allow them to grow or not.
Actually, I may as well throw logic into the mix while I am at it; it is based in things that have happened, but with the sweep of a brush of artistic license thrown in.
Let me start with many years ago in The Republic of Ireland. There I met an elderly gentleman named Thomas; this was in a pub from a bygone age on the south coast, when there really was sawdust to be found on the floors. Malc, my long suffering now retired Psychic husband and I, had been stopping in the pub and had gone downstairs for a drink, as you do. A silence fell on the room as we walked in: strangers! We walked up to the bar, sitting down on the stools and the room came alive again when we were greeted by the Landlady asking about our day: not strangers but guests.
After a very short time we’d struck up a conversation with Thomas, who seemed to appear from nowhere, pulling up another stool beside us. We talked about everything and anything, putting the world to rights and talking about his family. He was in his late 70s, one of 11 children and the only one still living in Ireland. The rest of his siblings had gone to England to seek their fortunes, and somehow forgotten to go back, which I found incredibly sad.
We steered away from politics and religion, which were topics best not to have an opinion on, especially in those days.
Now when I look back, he more than anyone else I have ever met, made me aware of my intuition and not taking things and definitely not people at face value. Thomas had that precious gift of true sight and in those few hours he taught me more than anyone had done before; without me appreciating it…
Thomas spoke slowly as he knew his accent was a difficult one for most foreigners to follow, the lilt to his voice was though mesmerising, watching his lips move was intoxicating. Without knowing it, or maybe he did, he taught me to listen to every word a fraction longer and to slow the conversation down in my mind. By the end of the evening it was truly difficult saying goodbye to him; knowing we would never meet again. Leaving him there in the bar, I also knew I would remember that encounter forever.
It has taken a while to finally appreciate it, but I’m pretty sure that’s where the seeds of The Crystal’s Songs were first planted; learning to listen.
Fast forward 25 years or more to earlier this year, when Malc and I were travelling through some of the most beautiful countryside imaginable. We stopped the car in the middle of literally nowhere, or it at least seemed that way. We’d been out for the day with our dogs so we got out and went for yet another walk; our Jacks can never have too many walks!
As we wandered, I kept hearing sounds, gentle hums, but couldn’t quite make out what they were. Since the first day I fell in love with Crystals I’ve always heard them, but these sounds were different, different notes, scales, call them what you will........
The Crystal's Song is a tale within a tale within a tale - just need someone brave enough to publish it!! The beginning of the first chapter is below:
She met an ancient man who appeared in her life - which it seemed at the time was always full of strife.
No matter what she seemed to try - it was always ending with her asking ‘why?’
Why did nothing ever seem to go right - and it all appeared to end up as if a fight?
She thought she knew what it was she needed to do - but the Universe it wouldn’t let her see things through.
From walls that were put up on her path - some so strange if she didn’t cry, she had to laugh.
To days that no matter what she did – she always finished on a downward skid.
She knew that there was that something missing – a long forgotten memory her mind kept hissing.
What it was, she had no idea – to the point some days over it she would shed that tear.
Meditation became just so overly circumspect – with dreams showing things seemingly from a weird aspect.
In the end she decided enough was enough – one of those things, her life she accepted, would always be tough.
But the nagging thought about that missing something – kept creeping in when she was least expecting.
There were times when it was on the tip of her tongue to be spoke – or in a dream, but forgotten when she awoke.
Then one day, as I said before - this man appeared on a wild sea shore.
She had been about to clamber down onto the beach - peace, pebbles and seashells she just wanted to seek.
Her walk there as usual, her thoughts in rhyme – trying to work out which mountain she was being sent to yet again climb.
Then as if out of nowhere her gaze was steered - to there in the distance as a lone figure appeared.
She could have sworn he wasn’t there when she first arrived - had he really just out of the air materialised?
He was dressed in a dark cape, his head covered by a hood - emanating a glow around where he was stood.
He stood so still, looking out at the sea - that she wondered if, she should just let him be.
But sensing that someone was watching him - he turned and his eyes over her didn’t skim.
His deep dark eyes bore down into her very soul - seeking and searching over which she had no control.
It probably was only a moment or two - but it felt like a lifetime for what it seemed he had to do.
The feeling that somehow, they were meant to meet - decided her fate as she could no longer control her feet.
They started taking her down, to the shore - she looked, but his gaze was out on the sea once more.
Looking around to see if anyone else was about - just in case she had to scream, or at least shout.
But realising that instead of fear, this felt like her destiny - her body starting to fill with a feeling of serenity.
In no time at all she was by his side - her hand, without thought, into his did glide.
She stood without talking just looking to the horizon - still trying to see what he had his eyes on.
After a while she felt his body turn and move - she looked up at a face that was definitely not smooth.
All weather beaten but with laughter lines - sensing he had been around since the beginning of time.
She could see the emotions he was trying to cover – his face taut, with tears just beginning to hover.
His hand was gripping hers, both gently but tightly – its warmth spreading up her arm, ever so slightly.
He took her other hand, his hood falling down onto his back – his hair she could see, there was not a lack.
It fell all the way down on to the sand - all browns and greys in waves it did land.
He shook his head as if it felt good to be free - or was it just he needed to her better see?
Their eyes had locked and the connection was done - whatever this was it had now begun.
He finally spoke, his voice soft, but strong – sounding like he’d been quiet much too long.
The words came out, slowly and measured – listening she knew this moment had to be treasured.
‘I have waited your lifetime for you to reappear - for a time when you would once again my voice hear.
Patiently waiting, hoping I hadn’t been wrong – that you would finally remember your first Crystal’s Song.’.....................
I can print and hand bind it which I am willing to do - but it will cost about £35.00 and take about five days. I should say it isn't all in rhyme, and below is just an example!