The Stones Are Alive
What is true fear? I sat outside of a cave, its dark throat beckoning with the tiny voice of cave crickets. My challenge, assigned to me by the Arch Druid, to enter alone. Once inside, I was to find the deepest recess of the cavern and read ‘There were Giants’ from the first of the Druidic Chronicles, aided only by the light of a pale Fire globe of blue light. Since childhood, I have long imagined what, if anything, may happen if ever I were to dare the Druidic initiation. The tradition has, for time immemorial, been the first step in achieving any real authority over the shades of stone and sea. The shades of stone and sea? Beings? Giants, fabled to inhabit Britain before its colonization? The Druid Chronicle offered only one vague clue to the results of the endeavor. “For an out of this world experience, read There Were Giants in a cave by the light of your Palen Tan, and as an extra measure try reciting the first ancient Welsh Spell of Making.” My son, fourteen, accompan...