pockets full

river rocks

river

I sat by the river, looking for refreshment. The air was crisp and cold, and the sun was peeking every so often from behind the clouds. I was wrapped up with a heavy jacket, sitting on the rocks being serenaded by the water tumbling over the spheres. They looked airbrushed from a distance. I recognized this beautiful babbling music. It’s seemed so familiar to my soul.  I set my journal down and and started picking up the rocks in my view, putting them in the water as I turned them over, inspecting. So much color appeared as if by magic when the water came in contact. “hmmm, they seem like little microcosms of life since we’re all so affected by what comes into our lives,”I thought. The smooth and small spheres are each etched with such detail. The”not-so-gentle” circumstances have given uniqueness that only comes from extremes of time, pressure and temperature.  As I looked at each one, I saw the beauty of difficult days, uncertainty and struggle. The substance that might have been loose and fragmented is now secure, smooth, solid, inviting….beautiful. A tiny piece of the whole tumbling around in the water was being slowly polished. Sounds familiar, huh?  They reveal what looks like little earths with mountain ridges, oceans, canyons and long traveled roads. There is mystery wrapped up in where it’s been. So. much. mystery. I can only surmise. Crazy how eloquently rocks can speak. I left with my journal empty but my spirit and pockets full.

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