In my early thirties, two college friends and I floated down a wilderness river in Alaska’s interior.
After about nine days, we lost track of time and no longer even knew what day of the week it was.
Around the campfire, my English major friend decided to recite a verse he knew from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam:
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky
Where under crawling coop’t we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to It for help — for it
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
This, of course, led to talks about the nature of reality, God, and other similar campfire topics.
That night I had the following dream:
I am lying on a bed of stones next to a river.
Above me is the dome of the sky, covered with deep, white clouds.
There are bear tracks deeply embedded in the clouds going up left side.
At the peak of the sky they turn into lynx tracks and descend down the right side.
I feel a great sense of peace.
This archetypal dream has stayed with me over the years; I believe that it only came because I was far away from the noise of civilization, that I was much more open to archetypal forces.
Every morning at the Stone Sanctuary I would first water the pumpkins, then build a fire and make some coffee. I would walk the paths, sit on the cabin roof, and sit on different stones, listening for what needed to be done.
I was puzzled how a human hand that somehow had turned into a bear paw, and puzzled about what to do next since this was not what I had planned. Out of the blue, I suddenly recalled the dream of the bear tracks across the sky turning into lynx tracks.
It just so happened that directly east of the bear tracks I had planned to build a rmoon from some quartz stones my wife and I had collected.
It seemed like putting the lynx track on top of the moon would be even more of an homage to the feminine, and similar to the the dream the dome of the sky was over the Sanctuary.
So once more I went to find stones, and once more the stones were there that were needed for the work.