The Skipping Stones

written by Alyssa Manalili

Do you wish to know of the gift that comes from a shooting star?

Up above is a blanket, black with a stream of stars, that wraps around and stretches endless. Often here there’s comfort sought within their gleam and glow. It is warmth, soft hope in twinkling light.

But wait—see change, see burst, see bright.

A streak of silver and speck of space, it burns and forges a path. It plummets with a driving force towards the earth: to seek, to settle, to claim a home.

Follow its dive, and chase the tail it leaves to find it in its hidden place.

A fractured stone, the fallen star stands tall within the centre of a brilliant lake. Tide reaches forth, and with its push and pull, its gentle tumble, the water draws you near.

Here you stand on the shore; vast and bright. The water stills. Look into its depths and see the stars submerged, see illumination speckled. A reflection. A mirror of what was once above. You stand in-between, in this space betwixt sky and earth. This place of eternal night.

The glow of silver spots beneath the water, a stark contrast with shore’s blackened stone. These are old wishes, old dreams, old stories of those that came before.

To add your treasure, add your tale, take stone from shore and paint with ink. Draw swirls, make lines, add colour, and here is where the magic starts. A wish is made within the pigmentation, a bond embedded into stone made warm. Your soul and spark. Just a piece. A little part.

Your very own small shooting star.

Take a breath. Release. Cast stone and let it fly. Cause disturbance in once stillness. Break tension, see water wake and how the ripples grow. See a bead of light grow bright with every splash from stone.

Kinetics. A transfer and exchange with the movement made.

But, will the wish set sail and head towards its home? Or will it fall, set anchor and be stone once more? Still, submerged and nestled in the deep and black? Forgotten, perhaps. See here! What’s often motionless and sturdy skips, it flies and flits ahead. A wave then comes, follows—gives chase and causes shift as speckled silver scatters. Spark once more, and laws of motion held. External force meets rest and friction leads to light.

See change, see burst, see bright.

A streak of silver and speck of space, it burns and forges a path. Follow its rise, and chase the tail it leaves to find a wish is granted.

See the stars below, now stars above. And now may you take your leave. A gift—something known, something to share: the story of the skipping stones.