The Rag Tree

I hope this newsletter finds you well, and that you don’t feel that what I’m writing here is just my own reflective self-indulgent ideas. I think of it more like a rag tree, where with each issue I place thoughts for devotional consideration - like pleas or invocations for good will from all the seen and unseen friends who gather round.

Prayers and petitions all tied on the rag tree, send requests by wind and wood

Where to now?

Sometimes they call it a “side quest” - just taking a different turn on the road, discovering entirely new adventures. Finding my way back? Maybe, maybe not. I may have completely jumped valence - and the side quest reveals itself to be a vital aspect of what I had thought was the real journey. It is simply change, our constant companion along the way.

Quote and Quartz

This quote spoke to me, so I saved it, but I didn’t note where it came from: “A white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.” Maybe you recognize it? Well I just googled it, and yes, it was from the Book of Revelation, which is quite a trippy read, I must say.

My googling had a sidebar powered by Merlin AI, which randomly said: Based on the input you provided, it seems that you might be referring to a religious artifact called the "Amulet of Nightshade." It is a fictional item from the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling, which features in the first book of the series "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone." The Amulet is white with an engraved silver design and a red gem in the middle, and it is said to have the power to turn its wearer invisible. It becomes an important item for Harry Potter during his journey through the magical world. [C’mon Merlin AI, you can do better!]

I’ve been meaning to tell you about the beautiful white quartz stones that appear on the surface of our gravel patio and driveway, especially after a solid time of rain. Their appearance looks significant to me. They seem to hold a meaning I can’t quite grasp. Once, after a time of difficulty, one stood at the doorstep. Another showed up in the middle on the flat stone stair a week or so later. How are they transported? They seem almost self-moving. They gleam and shine, then somehow dive back down again into the pebble pile, and don’t make themselves known.

Does the white reflect the moon on the full moon nights, along with the water that glimmers and shimmers below us? That visible bit of sea becomes an illuminated mirror all through the night. Its radiance penetrates the white curtains of the bedroom as if we’d left a light on somewhere.

Mostly I don’t see the white stones, and just go about my business as usual. But remembering that the way is dotted with these sometimes-seen white quartz fragments adds a magic glow in my mind. It’s a visible/invisible protection.

I was reminded of these quartz fragments when reading Inside the Neolithic Mind (Lewis-Williams and Pearce) and seeing this photo of Newgrange. The end of the caption reads: “Researchers believe that the brilliant white quartz originally covered the whole face of the mound.”

They say Newgrange quartz came all the way from the mountains, taken on boats by sea, then up the River Boyne and across land to the site.

I like to think that our quartz chips here on Salt Spring Island are cousins of quartz found all over the earth, and it all behaves in the same manner, much like plants which all bloom in the same sun-time wherever they may be growing. Lilacs with ancestors from the Balkans have taken root in a Calgary back yard, and they all flower in harmony together. I recall childhood mornings with a quick spray of Lilac cologne.

So for our contemplation today, I offer white quartz and lilac. Then along with the moon, the sea, Neolithic pre-memory and a sense of new adventure, I place them on to our imaginary rag tree, and ask that the wind blows these prayers to their appropriate destinations.

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