2021-10-18
31 分钟Three men meet one evening and not entirely by chance ... the story unfolds. Above them is the monastery and below them is the forest, each with their peculiar forces.
Somewhere between waking and sleeping on our journey towards the unfathomable deep, there comes a thin moment where we have one foot in the waking world and the other is in that other world where we relinquish conscious control.
Pausing here and straddled between two planets that drive one another like gears, the attentive traveler will notice a narrow door only wide enough to sidle through.
This is the border of sleep, where imagination and reality are braided together, a chasm in the crust of consciousness, venting the hot pumice of imagery into the irresistible magma of narrative.
Welcome to episode 50 of Stories from the Borders of Sleep, a semi regular podcast of curious tales from bordersofsleep.com featuring original stories by your host Seymour Jacklin.
There's plenty more information on the website bordersofleep.com where you can leave feedback or support the podcast by Buy me a coffee and you can also find us on Facebook where it's always lovely to meet new people and to interact a little.
I love hearing from listeners, so don't be shy and do feel free to drop me an email or contact me however you're most comfortable.
And I want to take this moment to thank everybody who has encouraged and supported morally and materially to get to episode 50.
I promise I have many more stories to tell and hope to be telling them for years to come, so thank you for journeying with me and this week's episode has a soundtrack by Healing Muses, which is available on Magnitude.
If you are ready to journey with me, then I shall begin the Artisan the Abbot and the Architect By Seymour Jacklin the artisan, Abbot and architect met at one end of the long gallery early one evening.
They had not scheduled the rendezvous, but so they coincided.
Nevertheless, on this evening of evenings, seeing the two others approaching, the artisan stopped his work, more out of curiosity than respect.
Nevertheless, it was opportune, since the abbot had been meaning to have a word with him.
They slowed their walk and stopped underneath the artisan's ladder.
He was holding the hammer and chisel close to his chest, poised to go back to work.
Being a stone mason, he was not one for small talk, having spent most of his life doing away with superfluous flakes of rock.
The abbot looked up at him and opened his mouth to speak.
This must be how he looks from God's point of view when he looks up and prays, thought the artisan.
He was so amused at the idea, he didn't know just what the abbot said.
Something about the work being noisy and pleased.
Not to be hammering during the hours of prayer.