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Wednesday, February 25, 2015

WHISPERS OF ANCIENT SOULS BY SHAYNA MATTHEWS


The Ancient Ones taken by Shayna Matthews.


“You have a very old soul…it’s ancient. Every time I see you, I look in your eyes and wonder what it is you’re searching for.” These were the words of a dear family friend, directed at me. I was in my early teens at the time, and his comment startled me. It isn’t often, after all, that someone tells a fifteen year old they have an ancient soul. I still contemplate the shrewd observation of that friend, and I can only ascertain that he saw something beyond the normal struggles of teenage angst. I wish I would have thought to question him further about what it was. What on earth did he see in me to voice such a strange observation? Whatever it was, I took it as a compliment then as I do now.

Maybe some of us are meant to search for things we are not even consciously aware of. Of course, if we are searching for something we don’t even realize we are looking for, how do we know when we’ve found it? Beats me.

And what of the word “ancient”? My friend specifically chose that word, but why? I like that word, ancient. I like it a lot. The word itself is shrouded in mystery, leaving us to ponder the unknown. ‘Ancient’ is history, and what is history? A plethora of stories…real stories pieced together from the lives of those who came before us. Granted, piecing together life-stories, or ancient history, largely depends upon remnants of fact dependant upon word of mouth, and we all know what happens when we play whisper-down-the-lane. Still, the stories are in the wind…waiting for the right searcher to wander along and find it.

When I finally decided to listen to the whispers in my ear, I laid aside my own reservations and put pen to paper. I knew nothing of what I wanted to write, but characters appeared like visceral spectors before my eyes. No, not characters...people. They took my hand with a wink and a promise, drawing me into the past. I knew as long as I kept my mind open, they would reveal their story to me. It was THE ONE: the thing I was searching for. It seems to me now, a few years later, that this sweeping tale I am now weaving with words was, perhaps, biding its time. As years wore on, and the decades faded into the span of a century, the story waited...searching. Searching for an ancient soul, one who would listen. One who would hear. One who would write.

My husband and I took a trip to the American Southwest a few years ago, where we retraced footsteps of ancestors. We chased them down on horseback through the deserts in Arizona, scaled terrifying wooden ladders up sheer cliffs, drifted down the Colorado through rugged canyons, and visited their homesteads, cabins and ruins.

Chasing the trails of my characters' heroes... this is the last remaining bunkhouse standing from the Hashknife Outfit.


I remember standing on the rim of a canyon, carved by a chocolate-milk river far below, and noticed a cairn only a few feet away. Now I do not know the truth of the myth, but it's said that these little stone stacks are the result of soul-searchers passing by. A stone is conspicuously placed on top of another, and as the next person passes by, another stone is added. It is accompanied by a silent prayer to the ones who came before. I added a pebble to the top of the tower, and sent a voiceless prayer to the four winds. As I did so, I felt something stir around me. Raising my arms to the sun, I embraced the breeze, and I heard them whisper. This is what I was searching for; the release of secrets locked deep within, the secrets of a place I had never been, but knew infinitely well. I found the soul of the American West, or perhaps it found me.

The author, Shayna, in Natural Bridges, Utah. A cairn is shown in the foreground.

Scenes-visions if you will-flashed through my thoughts for the remainder of that journey, and my characters and I have not been silenced since.

We have a fantastic connection now, my characters and I. They are unveiling their stories to me, and it is only when I forget to listen that I flounder. I want to write a different scene, take the story a different way. They laugh, fold their arms across their chest, and shake their heads. "Amateur," they say. "She thinks she's writing this book." We argue; I delete, write, rewrite and delete again, over and over until I scream for mercy, and in the end beg them to guide me back to the right path. And so it goes.

Now, even though I found something already, I'm still searching, for I believe the heart of an adventurer will always do so without fail. But now I can look back on that anguished girl of fifteen as she contemplates her friend's observation, and smile. I have the unfailing love and support of a wonderful man who owns my heart, and a beautiful little boy whose smile lights up the darkest of days. Thanks to whatever (dare I say, Whomever?) it was that took hold of me on the top of that cliff somewhere between Arizona and Utah, I have a firm toehold on the journey chosen to be my path of success...writing western stories from the heart within my ancient soul.

50 foot wooden ladder we climbed to reach the top of a cliff dwelling.


Perhaps, everyone is searching for something, whether they know it or not. Sometimes, the answer is right there in your ear, whispered on the wind. You need only summon the courage to listen.

What are you searching for? Have you found it, yet?

In case you haven't read it yet, here's the buy link to COWBOYS, CREATURES and CALICO VOL. 1 containing my first published story, THE LEGEND OF VENTURE CANYON!
http://www.amazon.com/Cowboys-Creatures-Calico-Lorrie-Farrelly-ebook/dp/B00NVX5Y2C/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1424841306&sr=1-2&keywords=Shayna+matthews

AMAZON REVIEW: "A great compilation of stories. I especially liked "Legend of Venture Canyon" by Shayna Matthews. A great story for a first time published writer!"

18 comments:

  1. Shayna,
    A wonderful post! I sometimes feel that way--that we're a conduit for story, and not the other way around. And there are many spirits in the Southwest, whispering in our ears. Take care.

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    1. Hi Kristy! Thank you, I'm so glad you enjoyed it! The southwest is truly a special place, I hold it within my heart every day. I love the inspiration drawn from such a place.

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  2. Shayna, first of all let me compliment you on your beautifully written blog. It is quite inspiring. I love that you and your family are embracing your journey as a writer together. Sometimes that is not the case. I love Indian lore and glean all I can about their ways and the lives they lived. As far as you being an old soul. There is something to be said of this. I have looked into the eyes of a young child and seen this myself. I look forward to hearing more about your adventures as you explore the voices calling to you.

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    1. Barb, thank you for your kind words, they mean a great deal to me. "Inspiring" - one does not get much better than that! :-) I am indeed truly blessed to have a husband who is so active in supporting my dreams as a writer. As far as old souls...I wonder, does it take an old soul to recognize another? I have so many stories to reveal...I look forward to telling them! Thank you again, all the best.

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  3. A 50-foot ladder???? Really????Oh, Shayna, you are also a BRAVE SOUL to attempt it. Quite the adventurous one, aren't you? LOL This is a wonderful post. I enjoyed it so much and enjoyed learning more about YOU and your family and the journey you're on -- all of you together. That is just wonderful. My daughter is on of those "old souls" -- she has been ever since she was a child. I can relate.
    Cheryl

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    1. LOL Cheryl, I did not mention the 50 foot cliff we had to climb down on the same trip, did I? Brave, perhaps. At the point when I climbed that blasted ladder, I was not thinking of bravado, nor of reaching the top. I was driven up that ladder by nothing short of sheer spite - anger at my horrific fear of heights. Makes for a good story, doesn't it? ;-) As I told Barb, your kind words mean so much, thank you. I look forward to sharing many more stories with you, and am blessed to have met you and the PRP.

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  4. Thanks for sharing your journey, your photos, and your lovely writing. I would not have made it up the ladder -- I get wobbly on ladders.

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    1. Hi Connie! Thank you for your wonderful compliment, I appreciate it! It took every ounce of strength I had to make it up that ladder, you should have seen how wobbly my knees were when I made it to the top! ;-)

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  5. There's no way anyone could get me up that ladder. I get woozy on a step stool. LOL. Great blog article, Shayna.

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    1. LOL Jacquie, I can certainly relate. I was just clicking off all of my height-driven adventures with my husband this evening - believe it or not I am terrified of heights. But, you don't have a good story if you don't try your best to conquer your fears, right? :-) Thank you for reading!

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  6. There is always the connection, if we just stop and listen. I'm happy you have found yours, may it continue to lead you down the wonderful path.
    As for the ladder "NO WAY". Still what a great trip that would have been. Doris McCraw/Angela Raines

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    1. Thank you, Doris! That, I believe is part of the problem...so many of us have forgotten how to stop in their tracks and just listen. It was an eye-opening journey, and one you'll no doubt be reading more about. You should hear the "behind the scenes" story to the 50 foot ladder...

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  7. It was such a pleasure to read about your spiritual journey. You certainly have more courage than I do insofar as your physical journey. I don't like to go up escalators, let alone some puny wooden ladder tottering at the edge of a deep precipice. YIKES!
    I kept thinking about the message you were given about being an ancient soul. When I contemplate those words I think of wisdom and maturity. I know you were honored to receive those words.
    I did have a similar journey back to my hometown in PA when I went to speak with a woman who had known my Uncle John. I intended to write a story about him and give him the life he never got to live. He drown while fly fishing when he was 21. I had been to my grandfather's house and to the place where my uncle had drown, but I was just a kid. I didn't take in all the emotional significance then--but I certainly did as an adult. It became a sacred journey for me, much as your journey unfolded for you. All this to simply say I get you, Shayna. Journeys like this mean everything to a person born to be a writer.
    I wish you continued success and many spiritual journeys to come.

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    1. Sarah, I believe I enjoyed reading your comment as much as you did my blog. Beautiful, thank you for sharing. It's good to know someone else understands, and it's not just me. Such a tribute to your Uncle, to write his story...perhaps you will write it yet, when the time is right. I lost a friend very dear to me as a teenager, and the emotional ties that bound us together before his passing are indeed, as you said, sacred. I understand. Thank you so much for your beautiful words of inspiration. I hold them dear.

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  8. Shayna,

    I nodded and smiled while reading your post. I, too, have experienced something similar. Two that come to mind are my visit to the Alamo many years ago and to Gettysburg. I had a fortuitous many minutes alone in the Alamo's church area, and I "tuned-in" to the surroundings. At Gettysburg, I found a place off by myself on Little Round Top to sit and just "be".

    Wow. It still gives me goosebumps. There definitely a remembered presence at both places.

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  9. Oh... and the ladder... I can go up a ladder like nobody's business. *grin* My problem is coming down. lol

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    1. Oh, and the ladder...lol! Coming down, let me tell you about that. There was no "climbing" back down - rather crawling through a tiny tunnel cut through the cliff, only to face an onslaught of stairs carved into steep slickrock, climbing up the rest of the cliff-face. Aaaargghhh! LOL I'm so glad to still be here reminiscing over the memory!

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  10. Hi Kaye! Ohhh, Gettysburg! Bestill my heart - I grew up near Gettysburg, and so the battlefield became my place to go for spiritual contemplation. I would get there at the crack of dawn, and stay until they kicked me off the field at 10pm. I know the place well. I should share some stories of "experiences" I had happen to me while there. Bet you I've sat at that very same place on Little Round Top, and for the same reasons. I have never been to The Alamo, but it's on my places to go. I can imagine it is a very raw place full of emotion.

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