Rocks

My Grandchildren like to play with rocks. They gather them from their driveway and have an elaborate way of deciding who gets which rock. Then, they give them names, make rock families, create houses for them...Children around the world know something important about rocks that we have forgotten. The earth itself is ever present, can be grasped, held, and played with. The most ordinary stone from the gravel driveway is an entrance into enchantment. On some level they may know that they, too, are connected to the Big Bang! Here's a portion of a lovely poem about this by the minister of the Oakland Calif. UU Church, Theresa I. Soto. It is from her book of poem/meditations Spilling the Light

A ROCK IN OUR POCKET

When they are kids, it seems like a

profession -- talking to rocks and

listening for their beauty. For the song

that says that they belong together. They

pick up --

the shiny one,

the round one,

the flat one,

the pretty one.

They store them

in boxes,

in bags,

in pockets...

But what you will miss, unless

you pay attention is this:

There is always the possibility that

we can treasure what is in our pockets,

rather than the thing we have yet to attain.

There is the knowledge of the earth beneath

all of us that a plain sparkly rock can give.

It is the hurtling round rock on which we

race around the universe.

There is the sense of beauty all around, but

also choosing to experience it, to seize it and

savor it. You could do worse than a practical,

ongoing yes...