Art by Norman E. Masters
Hard to know what to say to someone whose feet are to the fire my feet have never been held to this fire nor can they be. All I can do is say: I see you, my dear sister, and hold you in my heart. I sit down on the floor of my cave-home spread out before me a lifetime of gathered talisman sort them into two piles: one pile I leave behind when I go out my door for the last time- and what time is not my last a second pile I tie about my neck as I go out for my last time- and what time is not my last. Could I give you anything it would be this last single talisman ancient and has no name [I point towards it many a time.] The touch of talisman awakens wakens in us an awareness of our own ancient and nameless sacred. Forgive a bit of pedantry: the old form of Greek in which some of Heraclitus' words come to us has the form of verb for touch, waken and ignite as an identical form.