The devastation at the World Trade Center was first emptied a five gallon bucket at a time.
In the myth of Iron John, a lake is emptied one bucket at a time, i.e, one works with the unconscious very slowly.
The red truck is frequently loaded with forty of these ubiquitous buckets before going on quests for stone.
Here, in making a place for the next project — the Red Egg – those forty buckets are filled again.
Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul.
Oliver Wendell Holmes
On this rock I will build my church.
There seems to be a correspondence between where I am working with stone and what I am working on within.
Last summer and fall, after being away from Alaska and home for five months and feeling like a stranger in a strange land on that journey, I found myself arranging stones on the internal walls of the cabin.
I had planned and expected to do work on some of the external features of the Stone Sanctuary, yet I was called to do this work on the interior.
The stones exuded a sense of timelessness and containment, and I slowly began to feel more solid on the inside.
It is a wonderful alchemical pleasure to sit inside the cabin with a fire in the woodstove, and look to the outside world and see a fire on the stone altar.
The dual fires reminds me of the alchemical axiom from the Emerald Tablet, “As above, so below.”
The fire been a constant companion and friend with the stone work, and the first thing attended to when the work begins in the morning.
From Memories, Dreams, Reflections:
“I also recall from this period (seven to nine) that I was fond of playing with fire. In our garden there was an old wall built of stone, the interstices of which made interesting caves. I used to tend a little fire in one of those caves, with the other children helping me, a fire that had to burn forever and therefore had to be constantly maintained by our united efforts, which consisted in gathering the necessary wood. No one but myself was allowed to tend the fire. Others could light other fires in other caves, but these fires were profane and did not concern me. My fire alone was living and had an unmistakable aura of sanctity. “