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Callum Mor’s Awakening

Callum Mor’s Awakening

Cover Song of Silence5

This is an excerpt from my recent novel, which is available on Amazon Kindle http://www.amazon.com/Song-Silence-2nd-ebook/dp/B006WB6JII/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1330006852&sr=8-1


I was captivated by Song of Silence. I have three criteria for a good book…I don’t want it to end, I love the end, and I do not wish to speak to anyone for several hours after I finish it. So, this met my criteria on all three levels!

Mary Helen Dean, Organizational Professional, Ottawa, Canada

“Song of Silence is so exquisite in the tenderness and honesty with which the author deals with the human condition. The story pulls you in. Besides the fact that Song of Silence is so beautifully written, it is a book that explores the human condition in its entirety and honors the darkest elements. The author does this with grace, elegance and compassion.

Anita Rizvi, Consultant, Ottawa, Canada


From Chapter Seven

Callum Mor sat with his jacket and coat loosely about him, creating a pocket of warm air that would resist the freezing will of the storm. He breathed slowly and deeply, using the least energy as he sat there and thought. His life went before his eyes and he smiled gently as he saw his childhood and island nurturing. He recalled his family at picnics and peats, the joy of dancing competitively with Moira and rabbiting with Donald. And his teacher, Rachel MacDougall, was there in his mind’s eye. Remembering their adventure with the otter, and how he had written as much about her inelegant slide into the mud as much as he did about the otter, he smiled. He smiled in gratitude for the freedom she opened in his mind. He had received so much. His expression did not change as he thought of his father, Andrew, driven to madness by events he could not overcome. His heart welled with love for his father. He knew it was love that had driven his father to such lengths. He recalled the patient love of his mother Annie and the winter expeditions to the mail boat as their major weekly outing. He understood the warring factions in Brett MacVicker and felt grateful that this man, who killed his brother, should have shielded his darkness from him. His thoughts drifted and rested with his mother and old Colin as they aged. He then thought of his first Catriona. He had long grieved for her and saw her immense love for him and was overcome by it. Thought of her humbled him. Yet now he felt no pain on thinking of her radiance. He gave thanks for the present Catriona – fast asleep and warm within the insulation from the dead ewe. He offered respectful thanks to the ewe for enabling his little Catriona to live. He grieved at the wreckage he had turned himself into with drink, not for what he did to himself but for the pain he had inflicted by rebuke and indifference on people who only loved him. He dozed in the cold for only a moment. His mind kept him awake as he thought of the child Catriona and her mother and father. In the knowing of them they were as gifts to return him to himself. As morning light shafted through the darkness, he lost his self-contempt and saw compassion as the saving grace of both himself and his fellow man. In that long night of freezing cold and driving blizzard his mind led him to these and many other paths and levels of his life. His suffering dissolved as his compassion grew. By morning he arrived at full self-knowledge – a state of enlightenment that he remained in for the rest of his days.

He had no regrets, was without fear, simply filled with a deep well of compassion and love that had always been there within him. He took his time sorting these insights with his mind that was now working with clarity about his life journey. He saw clearly how it had brought him to this state of emancipation.

The blizzard had ended. Catriona was awake and alive and drew from the new strength and calmness that Callum Mor now possessed. He used his fisherman’s knife to hack strips of fleece from the sheep to bind their feet and hands and wrap round her knees. Layers of fleece were thrust inside her cardigan and his jacket to keep them warm. They left their small cave after Catriona gave a special prayer to the dead ewe that had saved her life. And to Callum Mor, whom she loved so totally. They explored the land about them, looking for a path to follow. The snow had gently moulded Nature’s difference into a smooth quilt but Callum Mor knew the way to the edge of the fell.

Callum Mor returned to his island, a fuller and wiser man. He opened himself to the ways of his own people. They saw his goodness and his presence and knew not where it came from but many went to him, drawn by his softness and wisdom. He made the small and ineffectual feel useful, redirected bitterness to joy and loud and vicious men were gentled in his presence. There was an aura about him that transformed life’s frailties and failings into a creative reality. His goodness and gentle acclaim were feared by some for he had power over men and knew that he did; thus he moved them to greater understanding and compassion. Some resented his past indifference to them but on meeting with him, succumbed to his gentleness. They bore ill-concealed hurts that he healed, and wished him no harm. But the men who feared him hated his goodness and sought his destruction. They could not find a way to it but they waited, jealously guarding their intent, carefully marking the time when they thought he would fall.