It was a stone with two holes for eyes, two small nostrils, and a large hole for the mouth, open as if it were singing a song. There was a rush of recognition, a feeling of deep meeting. . . .I brought the stone home and for a few weeks kept it by my bed. At night before sleep, I would ask, “What song am I to hear?” I listened but there was no answer. . [Her brother-in-law discovered that by blowing through it, eight notes could be sounded] We named it “the singing stone”. I continued to ask it what I was to learn, what was I to hear.
The answer came late one night. I had been at a philosophy class and got home about 11:30 p.m. It was a beautiful starry night, clear and cold. I spent some time outside gazing into the night sky, when I felt I should go in and look at my bookshelf. When I got there, I was drawn to two books. One, a Native American story book, and the other by Ramana Maharshi, a Hindu sage.
I opened the first book, the words before me read, “The Story of the Singing Stone.” A chill ran over my body. I sat and read. It was the tale of a young woman looking for the Singing Stone, supposed to be magic for the one who found it. The tale described her adventures through the four directions searching for it. The result was this. She ends up on a bluff with her family below. They looked up and upon seeing her hold out their arms and say, “Welcome home Singing Stone.”
She was Singing Stone. The Singing Stone was herself. The book went on to interpret the tale as addressing the question, “Who am I?”
I then felt compelled to go on and pick up the second book. I opened it. The chapter title read, “Who am I?” Another chill ran through my body but this time it was accompanied by a certain sense of reverence.
The stone had answered me! And this was the song. A joy welled up inside. I read every word of that chapter with great interest. In the text, Ramana Maharishi suggested ways to contact the Pure Self or Silence that is the true nature of who we are.