I think a lot of us that walk amongst nature have our small stash of collectibles, Earth alters, small wooden bowls full of mementos.
Small pieces of driftwood from Alaska’s Arctic Ocean north coast, sand dollars from the west coast of Washington State, pebbles from the beaches of Canada’s Maritime Provinces, hawk feathers, the ones we don’t talk about taken within the boundaries of a state park. Most I can remember the place from which they came, occasionally I must ask my wife, a woman with a video camera of a memory.
Stone as a sentient being is an interesting concept; there’s no question soil is alive, each tablespoon contain millions of microbes. Rock? Quite possibly too. But either sentient? Science might say otherwise. But is not all of Earth one living system?
I respect trees as I walk by them. They speak to me, I listen and respond back.
Flowers and small green plants; always step over them, following bare spots or the tracks of others.
Leave only footprints, take only photographs; but nature sometimes tempts us otherwise.
Dear Jeanne. I don’t know why you should give yourself such a hard time for wanting to borrow something beautiful and hold it to your heart. It wasn’t greed. It was mutual recognition and then you returned it to its natural place and its parallel lines returned. So you took it on a trip and brought it back home. No problem. 🤷🏼♂️🐸🪷
This reminds me of two things. Mary Oliver’s poem Stones. She had the same dilemma. Also when our granddaughter was barely past toddling age her favorite activity here was to take a paintbrush down to the creek and “paint” the rocks with water to see how their colors would change. She was so delighted and amazed by the difference between a wet rock and a dry one.
Thank you for sharing this. It's good to learn how to honor all things. I have been lucky to have training in this from a group of Native Americans who came to teach in south Florida. Up here, a Native American teacher that said when they did healings with stones, they went out to look for the right one and asked permission. After the healing was done, they took it back to the place where they found it. (I'm sure they did a clearing of some sort, too.) At this time in our culture, honoring is sorely needed. ) And you know, this post made me think of something I will do when I get back to Wales (hope in 2025). I had a major experience on the peninsula while looking at the Island called Bardsey, and after that I was told (inner) to take a stone. I found the right one, and it was okay with going with me. That moment, I later discovered, was when I was downloaded with book two, Priestess of the Realms, where she gets her training on the Priestess Isle. I would sit and hold the stone for a while and then write. All three books of Anwen's story have been published now and it may be time for that stone to go home.
Thank you for your wonderfully written, beautiful story about the Sentient Stone. There is valuable meaning there. It is also why, after attending Janisse Ray’s recent online class; “Nature Journaling School”, I now combine journaling and pencil sketching. To focus better. To remember details. To learn. To honor. I love what you wrote in “I put the Stone Back”.
What a relief to read your lovely article and what a relief that you put it back! Yes, I too experience stones as sentient beings and have gotten to the place where I ask permission to take one if I am really drawn to it. Often it is a no! I could/would have stones all over my house, and in my pockets otherwise. Thanks for this important and sensitive piece - and the info about the bones. I did not know that!
There is hardly a walk taken that something doesn't find its way home with me. Turtle shells, feathers, skulls, owl pellets leaves and plants, various fungi to look at under the microscope. My collection spans many years and countries. But, no rocks. I never thought of it as theft ... human arrogance I suppose. In some weird way I thought my interest was a way of honoring the gift of the find. Still, your thoughts have merit and I will spend time wrapping my mind around what you have written.
Somewhere along the way, I learned that you always have to ask the rock the feather whatever it is, if it’s OK to pick it up and then listen for the answer. I’m glad you put the rock back.
I sat on a large black stone with a thin white line bisecting it at Lake Superior. It was striking so I took a photo of it, which is a different way of “collecting” it…. Anyway I had a similar dilemma, a tin container of small agates and quartz and mica that I collected long ago and kept for years, until one day I thought, these rocks don’t want to be in a container, they are wild. So like you, I gave them back. ♥️
I love this story! I too am a collector of natural treasures. I don’t think it’s greed at all, unless I took a sackful, which I will admit I have been guilty of doing with shells. It’s a token of remembrance. I’ve collected at least one rock from some of my favorite states out west, in case I never get to visit again. I can still feel my connection to those lovely places when I hold the stones in my hand. I do agree your stone looks much happier in the creek though. I will definitely think about this essay before I “collect” anything again. Thanks, Jeanne.
I think a lot of us that walk amongst nature have our small stash of collectibles, Earth alters, small wooden bowls full of mementos.
Small pieces of driftwood from Alaska’s Arctic Ocean north coast, sand dollars from the west coast of Washington State, pebbles from the beaches of Canada’s Maritime Provinces, hawk feathers, the ones we don’t talk about taken within the boundaries of a state park. Most I can remember the place from which they came, occasionally I must ask my wife, a woman with a video camera of a memory.
Stone as a sentient being is an interesting concept; there’s no question soil is alive, each tablespoon contain millions of microbes. Rock? Quite possibly too. But either sentient? Science might say otherwise. But is not all of Earth one living system?
I respect trees as I walk by them. They speak to me, I listen and respond back.
Flowers and small green plants; always step over them, following bare spots or the tracks of others.
Leave only footprints, take only photographs; but nature sometimes tempts us otherwise.
Dear Jeanne. I don’t know why you should give yourself such a hard time for wanting to borrow something beautiful and hold it to your heart. It wasn’t greed. It was mutual recognition and then you returned it to its natural place and its parallel lines returned. So you took it on a trip and brought it back home. No problem. 🤷🏼♂️🐸🪷
I love everything about this story and its message.
This reminds me of two things. Mary Oliver’s poem Stones. She had the same dilemma. Also when our granddaughter was barely past toddling age her favorite activity here was to take a paintbrush down to the creek and “paint” the rocks with water to see how their colors would change. She was so delighted and amazed by the difference between a wet rock and a dry one.
Thank you for sharing this. It's good to learn how to honor all things. I have been lucky to have training in this from a group of Native Americans who came to teach in south Florida. Up here, a Native American teacher that said when they did healings with stones, they went out to look for the right one and asked permission. After the healing was done, they took it back to the place where they found it. (I'm sure they did a clearing of some sort, too.) At this time in our culture, honoring is sorely needed. ) And you know, this post made me think of something I will do when I get back to Wales (hope in 2025). I had a major experience on the peninsula while looking at the Island called Bardsey, and after that I was told (inner) to take a stone. I found the right one, and it was okay with going with me. That moment, I later discovered, was when I was downloaded with book two, Priestess of the Realms, where she gets her training on the Priestess Isle. I would sit and hold the stone for a while and then write. All three books of Anwen's story have been published now and it may be time for that stone to go home.
I love that you returned the rock, mostly because you listened to your own inner voice. You honored your self.
Thank you for your wonderfully written, beautiful story about the Sentient Stone. There is valuable meaning there. It is also why, after attending Janisse Ray’s recent online class; “Nature Journaling School”, I now combine journaling and pencil sketching. To focus better. To remember details. To learn. To honor. I love what you wrote in “I put the Stone Back”.
What a relief to read your lovely article and what a relief that you put it back! Yes, I too experience stones as sentient beings and have gotten to the place where I ask permission to take one if I am really drawn to it. Often it is a no! I could/would have stones all over my house, and in my pockets otherwise. Thanks for this important and sensitive piece - and the info about the bones. I did not know that!
There is hardly a walk taken that something doesn't find its way home with me. Turtle shells, feathers, skulls, owl pellets leaves and plants, various fungi to look at under the microscope. My collection spans many years and countries. But, no rocks. I never thought of it as theft ... human arrogance I suppose. In some weird way I thought my interest was a way of honoring the gift of the find. Still, your thoughts have merit and I will spend time wrapping my mind around what you have written.
Somewhere along the way, I learned that you always have to ask the rock the feather whatever it is, if it’s OK to pick it up and then listen for the answer. I’m glad you put the rock back.
I sat on a large black stone with a thin white line bisecting it at Lake Superior. It was striking so I took a photo of it, which is a different way of “collecting” it…. Anyway I had a similar dilemma, a tin container of small agates and quartz and mica that I collected long ago and kept for years, until one day I thought, these rocks don’t want to be in a container, they are wild. So like you, I gave them back. ♥️
Gosh this is beautiful Jeanne 💚
What a lovely story and lesson, Jeanne. A great reminder.
Great story.
I love this story! I too am a collector of natural treasures. I don’t think it’s greed at all, unless I took a sackful, which I will admit I have been guilty of doing with shells. It’s a token of remembrance. I’ve collected at least one rock from some of my favorite states out west, in case I never get to visit again. I can still feel my connection to those lovely places when I hold the stones in my hand. I do agree your stone looks much happier in the creek though. I will definitely think about this essay before I “collect” anything again. Thanks, Jeanne.
I have often felt this way about sea shells. Once they dry out, they lose so much of their allure.