The Sword in the Stone
“Before mankind began communicating through language” Iman stated, “he used the method of art, of symbols, a method which is still in practice today. Many of these symbols aligned with the natural state of the world, such as the four season, the four elements, and the four aspects of human nature. Since then, other devices for interpreting the natural progression have been developed, but all of them describe the evolution of mankind toward becoming what he is capable of.”
Iman held out his hand, and in the middle of this palm, a small translucent ball swelled to the size of an orange. As he lowered his hand to his side, the globe remained hovering in the air and glowed brilliantly like a miniature sun. As it darkened, it began to spin slowly, and I could see movement on its surface as if it were coated with water.
“Even in one of your oldest accounts of Creation,” Iman continued, “the Biblical story, God first created the firmament, Air. Before all things are created, there is a purity, a newness, and in many different traditions, this clarity is imparted through different symbols.”
The spinning globe took on the appearance of Earth and then seemed to melt from the bottom, still maintaining its size and integrity, but stretching to the floor in a metallic sheen. When it reached what would have been the floor of the nebulous void, it curled up on itself, growing into a craggy rock. As the boulder took shape, the trail from the globe hardened into a listening sword with the globe sitting atop the hilt.
“Is that… is that…” I gulped. “Is that Excalibur?”
“No,” said Iman, “but it’s a nice replica, don’t you think?”
“What’s it doing here?” I asked.
The aliens looked at it, blinking their large black eyes in unison.
“Not much of anything at the moment,” said Yewell, “but we’re hoping you can remedy that.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“What do you think you do with a sword in a stone?”
I slowly reached for the hilt, wrapping my fingers around the cold steel. Though I knew that the whole thing was only in my mind, I could still feel my hands tremble a bit with excitement and sheer nerves so I grabbed on with my left hand to steady myself. I applied some pressure and pulled, but the sword did not budge.
“Are you guys messing with me?” I asked the aliens.
“What exactly are you trying to do?” asked Yewell.
I tugged against the sword again. “I thought it was obvious. I’m trying to pull this sword out of this stone.”
Iman placed his long fingers over the top of the hilt, practically engulfing both of my hands.
“Stop and visualize what you intend to do,” he said.
When he removed his hand, I closed my eyes and imagined myself with the sword in my hands. I saw myself pull it out and hold it aloft. Just seeing the vision, I felt a renewed sense of vigor and realized that my hands had stopped trembling. With the vision clear in my mind, I opened my eyes, and pulled on the sword.
The stone released its grasp with a raspy sigh, and the sword seemed to sing with metallic glee. From the center of the stone where the sword had been housed, I noticed a single blade of grass crawl out as if stretching from a long sleep. It was soon joined by another and another yet as greenery overtook the stone and began to spread across the ground. I took a few steps back with the sword still in my hand, but the grass spread under me before I could get more than a few feet. All around us trees sprouted from nothing and the blackness of the void was miraculously transformed into a sunkissed oasis. Birds sang from the branches, and a soft breeze played the leaves like tiny, accompanying timpani.
I looked at my companions who were both beaming with toothless grins.
“What just happened?” I asked.
“You’ve begun your endeavor,” said Iman.
“And what endeavor is that exactly?”
“As Dr. Covey calls it,” Yewell said,” it is the endeavor of Pathfinding. All endeavors begin with thought, vision, just as you had vision before you could pull the sword from the stone.”
“But I didn’t envision all of this,” I said, waving the sword at the freshly sprouted foliage.
“Sometimes your imaginations supersedes you own consciousness,” explained Iman. “For there is always a greater intelligence at world than what you are aware of.”
“What you are experiencing, now, Steve,” Yewell added, “is what Jung referred to as the archetype of the Athlete. You’re rather rudimentary in your approach, and unsure of much of what is happening, but you are determined to use what talent you do have to excel. You largely associate what you can do with your body, but as you’ve already seen, it actually starts in the mind.”
“What’s up with the sword?” I said, swinging it through air before me.
“The sword is one of the symbols we were talking about,” said Iman. “In one of your mystic traditions, it is the symbol of the mind, as it cuts away ignorance and offers liberty. Just as the sword is wielded toward victory by the master, the mind is wielded toward growth, development and learning.”
“What mystic tradition are you talking about?” I asked.
“What you call Tarot cards,” said Yewell.
“You mean like fortune tellers and stuff?”
“If you prefer, we can offer you a more familiar counterpart.”
In an instant, the heft of the metal sword was replaced with a wood handled spade.
“It’s a bit more remedial,” he continued, “but it serves a similar purpose, and both are most commonly associated in your cultures as games of chance. As the sword slices through the air, the spade slices through the earth. Either way, it helps in defining a new beginning.”
“I think I preferred the sword,” I said.
“And just as they represent the mind,” said Yewell, “They also represent the element of air.”
In an instant, the spade disintegrated and drifted into the wind.
“And air, again, represents the purity of thought.”
“Can I have the sword back?” I asked.
“What we want you to realize,” said Iman, ignoring my request, “is the circuitous way all of these symbols relate to one another. The Sword, the Spade, Air, Thought, Vision, Spring, the Athlete – they are all interconnected in their announcement of a new beginning.”
“Or as your friend Gale Fulton Ross put it, your Commitment to your endeavor,” added Iman.
“Gale meant Commitment as a necessity of the Artist.”
“Aren’t you all the artists of your own lives? As you begin to create the life you want, purify your mind with a clear vision of how you can use your talents and develop a strategy to use them creatively and with disciplined focus.”
