In a dream a day before the summer solstice this story came:
I found frog. It jumped into blades of grass that wobbled in the soft breeze.
The grass became a praying mantas and swayed in unison with the frog, and he closed his eyes to the sun as he prayed. The blazing Sun became movement raining long shadows from his house, his sun house.
He was a boastful man and still on sunny days in the mountains you can feel him brag. In the motion of the sun’s dancing, his shadows, sun secrets accidentally unfolded out into the bark of an unusual huge brush oak he was showing off to. He tried to chase it down. As some fell to the ground, his showing off dropped his secrets for all to see. Some sizzled like rain drops on a hot stone, dried up and disappeared into the stone for all to read them.
The stone absorbed little secret. For years the sun cooked the unfathomable stone. He tried to crack him open, but the stone, un-wavered, never broke until one full moon night he found the secret was too heavy to hold on to. Letting go of the grasp on a hill side, he rolled with the secret bouncing inside him until he cracked open a gift of sand and shiny things oozed out for the world to see. Was this the secret? Was it the thought of having a heavy, heavy secret to keep that cracked him open, or was it the inevitable motion of the little secret to be let out? That night the little one broke the thousand year old hold of the stone. Continue reading In the Sun House/ The Secret of the Sun