Rock On
I’m always excited when I find a new rock, one that seems different from all the others, one that has a unique character about it. My favorites are the ones that are dinged up from a long life of being tossed around by the sea of life.
I don’t keep every rock I see, that would be crazy - some I pick up, look over and then toss it back to the ground, leaving it for the next person; others I bring with me, to be part of my life.
When I find a really special one, I keep it close to me so that I can look at it over and over, wondering about the journey it took to find its way to me. I look at the scars and indentations where another life once leaned on it for support, the tiny fragments of life left behind, the tumbled and smooth edges from a life of rolling with the ebb and flow of the world, the small clusters of past lives that have been left behind, and the crevasses where another life used it for safety and protection.
Rocks…they are just rocks, but their imperfections, their perfect imperfections, they make me smile, make me happy on the bad days, looking at a perfectly flawed rock, the rock that traveled untold miles, through rough seas and calm yet somehow managed to stay intact enough to appear, shimmering with the beauty that came from that trauma, that’s my rock… That is the rock I will bring home, saving it from being tossed back to sea, protecting, and treasuring it…
Sometimes a rock is just a rock, but other times, that rock is my rock…