My Magickal Beads

And here we have the Old Man's Magickal Beads.  Somewhat beat up, battered.  Been around the block a time or two.  They've found a home, and now they begin to sing.

There are forty of them on the string.  Found them lying forlorn in the street, all abandoned and unwanted, and they were so beat and tired and discouraged that about all they could do was this pathetic little whisper:  "Eee-LIIIII-Jaaaah."

Which of course got my attention.  I stopped the bike, got down and picked them up.  They felt just right there in my hands, like they were just waiting for some old Dharma Bum to come along who needed some japa beads and...well, forty, for goodness sakes, eh?  Forty is a sacred number.

So they found a home in the inner left hand pocket of the jacket.  Their job is to keep track of my mahalos.

Mahalo means "thank you" in Hawaiian, and it's a lovely thing of an evening when you're out in the middle of the deep dark forest to pull the beads out and go for forty things you're grateful for this day.

I find it's a lovely way to reconnect to the Spirit.  And being grateful is such a sacrament in and of itself.

I am grateful for you, you know.

Just ask my beads.

Peace, aloha, and grandma's cookies,

Elijah