What is the Seventh Beacon?

There was a silence again for a while. Then, 'What is that?' cried Pippin suddenly, clutching at Gandalf's cloak. 'Look! Fire, red fire! Are there dragons in this land? Look, there is another!

For answer Gandalf cried aloud to his horse. 'On, Shadow- fax! We must hasten. Time is short. See! The beacons of Gondor are alight, calling for aid. War is kindled. See, there is the fire on Amon Dîn, and flame on Eilenach; and there they go speeding west: Nardol, Erelas, Min-Rimmon, Calenhad, and the Halifirien on the borders of Rohan.

But Shadowfax paused in his stride, slowing to a walk, and then he lifted up his head and neighed. And out of the darkness the answering neigh of other horses came; and presently the thudding of hoofs was heard, and three riders swept up and passed like flying ghosts in the moon and vanished into the West. Then Shadowfax gathered himself together and sprang away, and the night flowed over him like a roar- ing wind.

Words.

They can do anything. They can build a man up, and they can just as easily destroy him. They can convey the most beautiful image and conjure the most profane nightmare. They can confirm our worldview or change even the most intractable mind. They can shape reality.

Words have power.

It’s why I love them so dearly. Not for the promise of power, but for the chance to ride their current and, with enough luck and skill, even bend that power to my will. Words are a bridge, conveying - through common symbols and experiences - ideas shared by one another, crossing that infinite gulf that exists between each of us.

I’m not going to proclaim that I have new ideas, or better ones (though I certainly fancy them to be). I’m here to discover them, and – finding worth in that discovery – pass them on to share with as many people as I can. Because I, like you, have a voice that needs to be heard. Because ideas that are lonely will wither and die. And here, an oasis in the vast wasteland that is the Internet, they become inviolate and immortal.

Words are freedom.

Words are love.

Words are life.

Do I sound melodramatic? Maybe, but I’m not wrong. Just by writing those sentences I have proven them to be true. The idea has taken form, and therefore exists. But enough about words. Let's just start putting them to use, and let them become our silent partners in crime.

The Seventh Beacon.

You may recall the signal fires in Tolkien's Return of the King, set atop the White Mountains, warning the Rohirrim that war had begun and Gondor needed their aid. The distance stretched from one nation to another, each fire lit in succession, blazing across snow-covered mountaintops against the coming darkness. There were seven of them, the final resting on the border between Gondor and Rohan. Halifirien. Amon Anwar to the elves. The Hill of Awe. The highest place in the land.

Beacon Wardens lived near the summit, to keep watch and wait, and finally to light the fire, whose light would move men to action.

My goals aren’t so lofty, although I aspire to move others as I have been moved. The Seventh Beacon, in all its myriad metaphors, is my forum, my soapbox, my voice. It aspires to inspire and informs to reform; change hearts, warm hearts, break hearts and take hearts.

But what is it really?

I don’t know. Not yet. Finding out what it becomes… I guess that’s the goal. That’s the point.

The Seventh Beacon is a journey with no end planned. A journal, an observation, an accounting of my life and the world, and a home for all the ideas out there that are waiting to be discovered.

The words are out there.

The words will empower.