My stories need traction. They need someone to help carry them along. When Conversations with God was conceived, it was the Lord God Himself who lent His voice to the writer. What wiser Man, what sturdier expression could one wish for than God’s? No matter what wisdom is on the page, who would ever question it?

Once Almustafa the chosen and beloved Prophet was recalled from the city of Orphalese. His poetic voice rose and fell as he gave the gathered congregation of his wisdom. Oh Kalil Gibran, would that my words can carry your depth and your weight. As Morrie Schwartz lay dying, he gave so much to his student Mitch Albom. Would that I could give that to my reader.

The Pilgrim is not getting any younger and as the sand runs out he needs someone also to carry forward his story. For a long while no one came. Not in a hurry. Then one night, in a dream an ancient traveller came to my bedside as I slept. You have been calling to me in the void and in the darkness, and I have heard. So here I am. SevenStones.

I recognised the name from another phase of my life. Once there was a time when I ran a marathon on each continent and returned home with a stone from each race as a memento. I knew a girl who wanted to undertake a pilgrim journey of her own, the Camino de Santiago. I gave her my stones for courage and for luck. For a while I carried that name, and now that my mentor and guide is here, I give him back his name. SevenStones

He has lived many lifetimes and fought many battles. He has been a teacher and a gardener. He has been a leader and a slave. He has amassed great fortune and has been a beggar. His incarnations have been both mother and father. He is a traveller but has also built a home and raised a family. SevenStones.

So now come, he turned to me in my wakefulness. Come, he commanded. I am your voice; you must speak up so those who want to listen can hear. I know you are going on a journey to your death. This is our time, Pilgrim. Speak up – I am now your voice; I am SevenStones.