I stand in the town square.
I am about eight years old.
I have something important to do today,
someone important to meet,
something that I have to give away.
I look round the town square.
I see you sitting on a bench
and I go over to you.
You smile and gesture to me
to sit down beside you.
I sit down and hold out my hand to you,
fist closed.
You say,
“What have you brought me today, Claire?”
I open my fingers.
In my hand lies a small, grey, angular stone.
“It’s this,” I say
and I place the stone in your hand
for you to look at.
The wee stone has been worn smooth
with years of being carried in my hand.
You turn it over in your fingers and ask,
“Claire, tell me about this.”
“It looks like a stone,” I reply,
“but it’s not just a stone.
It’s what I want people to think of me.
It’s what I want people to think of my singing.
I want people to like it.
I don’t want anyone to say,
‘Shut up! You’re ruining the song!’”
You consider this. Then you ask,
“Have you decided
what you are going to do with this?”
“I don’t want it any more”, I reply.
“I want to get rid of it.
I need to get rid of it.
I’ve carried this around
for such a long time
that it almost feels like part of me.
Sometimes I hardly notice it at all
and it feels light,
like a grain of sand in my pocket.
Other times it feels so heavy
that I can barely lift it.
At those times it leaves me so tired
that I can’t face letting people hear me sing
because I feel afraid
of what they might think of it.
I have tried to get rid of this many times
in many different ways
but it keeps coming back
and I find it in my pocket again.
It’s just like trying to lose my shadow;
it won’t go away.”
“I’ve come to you today,” I continue
because I know that I can’t do this
on my own.
I know that you won’t do this
on your own.
But I know that this is something
that we can do together.
Will you help me
to leave this behind
so that I can sing without worrying
about what other people think?
Please?”
You think about this for a minute.
Then you say,
“There’s something you need to understand
about all of this.
This won’t be easy
and it won’t be instant.
There is no quick solution.
This is something that you have to work at.
Does that make sense to you?”
“For a long, long time you have felt a need
to have other people like your singing.
It has been really important to you.
Are you ready to let go of that now?”
I nod.
“That’s the first step”, you say
“and it’s a really important one.
The next step is for you
to throw away that stone.
Are you ready to do that?”
I nod.
“Would you like us to do it together?”
Again, I nod.
You look around you and ask,
“Now where would be a good place
to put your stone?”
You look over at the river
and your eyes light up.
“Do you think the river would be a good place?”
I smile, “Yes, I like throwing stones in the river!”
“Off we go then!” you say.
We walk over to the river
and stand side by side at the water’s edge
watching the water sparkle in the sunlight.
“Would you like to throw it in there?” you ask.
“Yeah”, I reply.
“You should throw it”, you say,
because it belongs to you.”
Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure”, I reply.
“Okay, then. I’ll count you in.
You throw when I say ‘Go’ …
… Ready, steady, GO!”
I throw the stone
as hard as I can.
We watch as it arcs through the air
and dips down tinto the river
where it disappears with the tiniest of splashes.
It’s gone.
“That’s the second step done”, you say.
“Do you know what the next step is?”
“I know what it is,” I reply.
“When the stone comes back
I have to throw it back in again”.
“That’s right”, you say,
“because it will come back
at some stage.
In fact, it may come back many times.
And each time it does, you just have to
face up to it again,
like you did today.”
“Will you help me again?” I ask.
“Of course!” you reply, smiling.
“All you have to do is call me
and I’ll be there to help you
any time,
every time.”
We turn and walk back to the town square
together.
(c) Claire Murray
