There is something comforting about stones and rocks.
Our Indian sisters and brothers believe each stone and rock has a spirit. This is true, I think. When I hold them in my hand, I feel their solidity, but something else passes from them to me. I think of what they have seen, what has shaped them: The passing of ice fields, inch by ponderous inch; the tumble of white water; the rolling and pounding from the waves; the fire and molten forces that heated, spewed and fused them; the snows that covered them; the eons that passed them.
Still they endure
I like to have them about, close to me. They take me on a journey. Sometimes I travel back to their gathering, their selection. There is joy in their gathering. Finding them means time away from concrete and pavement, to a time where there’s time.
You can ponder as you wander, regarding the jewels at your feet. Some are found along mossy-banked streams. Some come from the stream beds, wetly gleaming. Stones are found at riverside, half buried on the graveled beach. Others find their way to night table or desk top from the ocean’s shores, rubbed and rolled on the sea floor, then cast shore-ward, now waiting for you or me to recognize our kinship.
Two small rocks sit atop my computer as I write. One looks like New Mexico and the other Mojave.
They give me an anchor in this hard-to-hold world
The rocks with the smooth egg-shape seem laid by ancient stone birds — perhaps the Roc? Several pancake-flat stones invite an artful, piled arrangement, which looks spare and stylish, like a Japanese garden. Tranquility prevails. In contrast, the sharp-toothed obsidian gleams darkly and tells tales of violent upheaval and molten flow. Careful, it waits to bite if you touch too hard.
But these are my stone friends. You’ll find your own. Each one will whisper a haiku into your ear. Each has its story to tell. Contained within is the weight of years, a mystery that perhaps shall be revealed to you alone. The voice of ancient wisdom is in their being — when our ears are open to hear.
I think that we who love the rocks and stones are kindred spirits. Many there are who cannot walk upon the beach or shore or field without returning home with pockets jingling with a stone or two. If you are one, then you know their lure. If you’ve no stones surrounding you, you may want to go exploring for them now.
Our hair, now with the gray and silver glinting, does it bother us? Regard the rocks. Even as some are brown, some ebony, and others glint with gold, there are those beauties of gray, silver and white. All are beautiful. Who is to say which one is more so? For young women, the egg rocks speak of possibility, the magic of creation, ripe with roundness.
Go now to water. Go to canyon and field. Go to nature. Walk along, with eyes alert, and senses quivering. The lesson is not to accumulate, but to select, most carefully, the one or two pieces of mini-earth that call. Welcome the moment when your eyes alight upon the right one. It will call your name. Will you heed the call? Will you lift it, hold it in your hand?
Consider this rock, or its offspring, this stone. Does it speak to you? What does it say? Smooth it with your fingers, oh so gently. Can you hear its voice, its cells singing to yours?
The round ones and the egg-shaped ones speak to us of life. For some of us, our lives are now changing from egg creators to wisdom bearers. These forever eggs are a reminder of our new phase. We will always be Woman, bearer of life, caretaker of Gaea, with the enduring strength of rock to sustain us.
Ask the stone’s permission to remove it. Tell it you need it for just a little while. Just a passing blip from the eons it has endured. Someday, perhaps, your bones and its bones will blend and return to the meadow, the field, the river bank, the ocean shore where you first met.
Unite now, the two of you, both strong and enduring. This is your moment to blend spirit and sing together. Later, when you honor rock, you will remember this moment of discovery: the moment when strong woman and enduring element found one another.
Thanks for reading!