Crone’s Cairn: A Stone, A Poem, A Path
It started with a velvet bag and a single stone. What followed was a poem—and a path.
The Stone That Called Me
It was nearly twenty years ago when I first walked into Shonna’s office, and she extended a black velvet bag.
“Pull a stone,” she said. Then, almost hesitantly: “If you want.”
Of course I would pull a stone. I’ve been fascinated by them since I found an arrow-shaped rock in the Mojave Desert when I was five—though I promptly tossed it away, not realizing what I held.
I reached into the bag.
The stones were cool to the touch, all smooth rectangles with softened edges. One called to my hand. When I drew it, I found a light sand-colored stone painted with the image of a hooded figure facing a shadowy archway.
“The Unknown,” Shonna said.
“Of course,” I thought.
After our session, I rushed to Terra Christa, a cozy metaphysical shop in Vienna, Virginia, and purchased my own set of Crone Stones. They’ve been with me ever since. And I’ve never forgotten the stone I pulled that day.
The Crone Stones: A Sacred Tool for Discovery
Crone Stones are the creation of artist and seeker Carol Lee Campbell, born from her deep engagement with global myth and the triple feminine archetype: Maiden, Mother, Crone.
The set contains thirty-three stones: ten grouped sets, and one for each of the three archetypes. Each stone is painted with evocative imagery and accompanied by Campbell’s reflections—not prescriptions, but prompts. Not instruction, but invitation.
“There was a time, thousands of years ago, when a woman was considered the microcosm of the universe... Triple woman was whole woman, known for her changing cycles that echoed the environment surrounding her.”
—Carol Lee Campbell
Some liken these stones to tarot, but I see them less as divination and more as discovery. A mirror held gently. A guide for wherever you are in your becoming.
What I’ve always found most fruitful—especially for soul work and writing—are the questions Campbell poses after each stone’s reflection. For The Unknown, for instance, the question is simple:
“What light awaits you?”
The Birth of Crone’s Cairn
That question is still unfolding. Earlier this year, it guided me down a new path—one marked by sorrow and joy, grief and emergence.
Without a timeline or agenda, I began drawing a single stone. Sitting with it. Listening. Writing.
I honored each stone’s message by composing a poem in response. That practice became this project: Crone’s Cairn.
I’ve been carrying poetry with me since the seventies—perhaps a delayed flower child, finally learning to tend her roots. As I step more fully into my Crone years, I find myself revisiting that child. Not to fix her, but to walk beside her.
Dear Reader, I Want to Share
I’ve now written thirty-three poems—one for each randomly drawn stone. Some of the poems are accompanied by zentangle illustrations, meditative visuals to echo the inward work.
This has been a wondrous, sometimes painful journey. One I hope to eventually bind by hand into a small book—not just for the joy of creating something tangible, but to honor the path itself.
My sons will likely be surprised to see what their mother has made. 😊
Beginning next week, I’ll be sharing one or two poems each week in the order they were written. Alongside each, I’ll include a reflection—sometimes drawn from Campbell’s original notes, and always from my own experience. The remarkable thing is: I could draw the same stone again today, and its meaning would shift, meeting me where I am now.
But Who is This For—Really?
If you love reflection, inward journeys, or the strange alchemy of symbols and stories—this may speak to you.
If you’re a writer, a reader, an elder, a dreamer—welcome.
If you’ve ever paused before a stone and wondered what it held—this is for you.
You don’t need to be a poet to walk among stones.
Invitation
Follow the cairn with me—each stone laid through my vision, through your eyes.
That very first stone I drew, The Unknown, once represented a chasm filled with monsters and self-doubt. I was lost then.
Now, in Crone’s Cairn, that same stone is titled Found.
Unnecessarily weighted by the unknown stone.
And yet … perhaps it was meant to be.
Gentle reminder:
My reflections are not intended as therapy or professional guidance. But be mindful—the stones' language may stir memories or awaken insights. Honor what arises.
I love this!