I found a stone
It was surely magical
I could feel its power
Crackling electric
It was hard to hold on to it
I said to the stone:
We're going to
Change the world
I felt powerful
The stone seemed happy I found it
The stone seemed to have a face
Its eyes were closed
Like it was asleep
I took it to school in my pocket
And showed my friends
Hold it I said
Do you feel anything?
What should I feel?
Like electricity I said
No
You're crazy
No
No
No
I put the stone away
I put it on my shelf
Five years passed
I remembered the stone
I blew the dust off it
I held it
Do youI feel anything?
What should I feel?
Power
Power to change the world
You're crazy
No
........................
Reflection:
My mother used to go for walks with us when we were little. We lived in the country on a dirt road. She loved looking for arrowheads and hunting for interesting stones, which, because of the retreating glacier, were plentiful. Even as a kid, because of my Mom, I was aware that the anciently eroded and disturbed terrain had a story to tell, and the stones we found were telling it. We would always return home with a handful of special rocks and, more often than not, an arrowhead. I shared my mother's passion for stone-hunting and I learned a lot from her about the differences between say, metamorphic, igneous, and composite stones, but mostly she was drawn to the beauty and character of individual stones. "Look, this one has a face." Or, "This one looks like a fish." Or she would point out a certain pattern or color of a mineral or the presence of an embedded crystal. You might say, she opened my eyes to the magic and mysteries of the mineral kingdom. As I grew up and grew away from her influence, my relationship with stones shifted way into the background. For decades it receded, but it never want away. Maybe it is more accurate to say I receded. It wasn't until I started studying and practicing shamanism that the wonder of stones and geology returned full-blown and became personal again.
(Article changed on Feb 01, 2022 at 12:30 PM EST)
