Shaman Stones, continued

When at last he entered a rehabilitation rest home so he could receive morphine treatments, our visits stopped. He was too sick and weak for visitors. Even phone calls became difficult. I wanted to see him. But each time I called for permission to visit, he said no, that he would call me and tell me when he felt better.

I determined to take a chance and drop in. I wanted to bring something to cheer him up. One day while walking into town, as I thought about Jacques and the pain he must be suffering, I looked down to see a large black raven feather lying at my feet. I picked it up. By the time I returned home, I knew the gift I would bring.

Jacques was pleased to see me. I found him sitting on the patio facing the green lawn and flower beds, canopied by huge pines. He was having a rare good day. We talked over old times and his current trials. Finally, he asked about the package I’d brought. In his hands I placed the Shaman Stones.

“Jacques, do you remember our talks about the gatherings?” I asked.

“Yes, with your spiritual friends,” he replied.

“Well, last week,” I told him, “we had a very special gathering attended by a Shaman. He gave each of us in the circle a personal reading. When he got to me, he said I carried a great sadness. I told him about you. He left the room. When he came back, he handed me two stones. ‘Tell your friend to place a stone in each palm with the bold pattern down. Tell him to close his fingers, cross his heart with his arms, and say a prayer for well-being. Then he must open his arms and hands, raise them to the sky and allow the pain to escape from the small footprint pattern. He will find peace,’ the Shaman said.”

Jacques fingered the stones with their colored patterns and fitted one into each palm, following the Shaman’s instructions. Within a few minutes, he felt better. He was so excited that I had met this man, that he had given me the stones to help him. Suddenly, a flock of ravens flew into the garden and landed on the grassy lawn in front of us. Jacques was surprised at their lack of fear as they walked back and forth.

“Every day they come to scratch in the grass, looking for food, but they never walk this close,” he said. “I have always loved ravens. They are my favorite birds.”

“The totem animal of the Shaman’s tribe is the raven,” I said. In my mind I pictured the raven feather I’d found while walking and felt goose bumps breaking out all over my body. That was the last time I saw my friend. He died two weeks later.

At the next spiritual gathering with my friends, I passed around a set of Shaman Stones and shared the story about Jacques. When I finished, one of my friends turned to me and asked, “Did I miss a gathering? I don’t remember meeting a Shaman.”

“That was the story I told Jacques,” I said.

It was the perfect gift. Everything is connected, held together by spirit. So, as you can see from this story, the Shaman Stones are very special to me. They were born to bring peace and comfort to a friend who was in desperate need.

Each stone is hand selected, hand painted, and varnished. No two are alike. The different colors signify the wholeness of the spirit (white), the connection with the physical body through blood (red), and the reminder of mortality through pain (yellow). Occasionally a blue spot may be added—the eye of the Shaman—if the stone is to be used for meditation.