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A Spiritually Enlightening Online Magazine. May's Theme: "Being Present"
Volume 7 Issue 4 ISSN# 1708-3265

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 		Presents
by Phil Kotofskie

Walking in the desert one day I came upon a Y in a shallow stream bed. Why? I thought. I stopped and didged for the stones, plants and nearby hidden animals. (I carried a didgeridoo, a wind instrument discovered by Australian Aborigines that makes a deep droning noise.) A cookie-sized stone kept winking at me. I picked it up. Quartz on the flat front sparkled in the sunlight. An indentation on the back was filled with quartz, which spilled over onto the surface and around to join the front. The stone was shaped like a half moon.

"If you'd like to come home with me, remind me when I leave," I said, returning the stone to the sand.

I looked up the left arm of the Y: a large stone watched us. After pausing to feel the desert's presence, I didged over the stone, then crouched to place my hands upon it. Deep, calm energy accented by the sparkly feeling of surrounding stones filled me. Although split into three pieces, the stone maintained a single presence, anchoring the place's energy in concert with smaller stones. I felt the stone's links with other large stones, seams of a desert quilt, formed underground as well. My tension faded.

"You stones are cool." The stones pulsed happiness. A small white stone offered to accompany me, so I picked it up. Open to my senses, I flowed with my inner rudder, my inner guidance. I walked through a gate formed by two Palo Verde trees. Palo Verde means Green Stick; the trees have green bark and tiny leaves. Another Palo Verde welcomed me as I walked across a clearing.

Almost to the tree, I felt an energetic nudge from behind. I turned and looked down: no stones. I walked back slowly checking the ground, but still no stones. Who greeted me? I looked up.

Directly in front of me a large Palo Verde tree smiled, one of the trees who formed the welcoming gateway. "You! It was you." I laughed at my stone-minded tree blindness. The tree wanted to share. Watching for thorns, I rested my hands on the cool bark of two branches. Solid, vibrant energy with very slow, constant movement filled me. I felt the tree's wounds as prickly, buzzing energy, but the tree was fine, a tree equivalent to the split stone earlier.

Dead branches lay on the ground in various stages of decomposition. Other branches prepared to follow. Mistletoe grew in several places, some healthy like parts of the tree, some dead like other parts of the tree. I reflected on how challenging life can be. The tree did not view mistletoe as a parasite, but as a fellow voyager, another variable in a change-filled life.

When I die, this plant dies with me, the tree said. I felt the plants working on their relationship, a work in progress.

I started tapping on the branches with my hands, playing the tree. Rhythms came from our sharing. Different sounds came when I gently slapped the bark or bumped it with my open palm. (I play djembe hand drums. Djembe playing technique comes in handy on other surfaces.) I paused to make sure the tree was okay. Yes. The rhythms changed when I played different parts of the tree. It wasn't that I intended to shift. Rather, my body felt a change, which shifted the rhythm. Vibrations traveled to either hand when I played branches close to one another.

I feel the rhythms from my roots to my branch tips, the tree said. I felt a pulse of feeling with images, rather than words.

Dead wood sounded different than live wood. Different-sized branches sounded different, as did the trunk. The tree guided me into friendship—knowing each other—using tactile sensations between our bodies. I stepped left a few paces to the tall young saguaro standing with the tree.

"Mind if I share energy with you?" I said. The saguaro again sent welcoming energy, the way it called me over originally. Yes. (As I wrote this, my young saguaro friend sent hot, soothing energy of confirmation from out in the desert to my feet and legs, then all saguaros joined in.) Old saguaros often have areas without spines, but not this one. I carefully—slowly—placed my fingers between the spines, feeling its cool skin. The energy felt warmer than the tree's, flowing more quickly. What a happy cactus! The tree called me back.

After more rhythm playing, I didged for awhile, the deep vibrations relaxing me still more. A ground squirrel raced across the ground nearby, tail plume held high.

Welcome! Thank you!

Squirrel communication often seems punctuated by exclamation points. I laughed. After didging I lay back on the ground and fell asleep. Upon waking to a setting sun, I placed my hands on the tree.

"Thank you. Thank you all."

Thank you! everybody said.

The half moon stream stone reminded me about its coming home, so I returned the same way. I stopped to share energy with the large stone, then stood still. I was missing something. Hmm. Feeling the nudge of going-home momentum, I nevertheless stood looking, feeling. I felt something and looked at a group of small stones in the stream bed. Still not getting it, I watched. I felt. I listened.

One stone caught my attention, so I gazed at it, noticing its thin, protruded end pointed toward me. Still missing something. Then I saw: it looked like a stretched ear from an ancient statue! I picked it up, laughing with the desert.

"You clowns!" What would they come up with next?

My small white guide stone asked to sit atop the large split stone. "Thanks for guiding me," I said. Then I recalled the stream stone. Saw the punch line. But was I correct?

The stream stone at the Y had the shape of a normal human ear. Placed side-by-side, the stones formed a pair of ears. Not only that. The stretched ear worked only as a right ear, the stream stone as a left, both backs concave like the back of an ear!

I laughed at the message.

Thank you for listening. Find your ears. Listen. Most of all: Let's play!

Rock Ear photo by Dawn Baumann-Brunke.




Phil Kotofskie is a longtime student of life. His sharing is based on years of working with himself in diverse jobs and relationships ranging from Army Soldier to Overnight Grocery Stocker, from spouse to stranger. His specialty is everyday life as a spiritual path.

Phil is a Reiki Master who offers healing assistance and a musician who plays didgeridoo and West African drums. He is currently finishing a book with the Stones that guides the reader to answer the question "Who am I?"

Phil lives in Tucson, Arizona with Popurrie and the Stones and can be contacted via email.

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