More than a Heart of Stone

I found a heart rock today on my walk. It’s something I look for whenever I’m out in the trees.

And there it was . . . sunlight on the curvature of its form. Ah, what an assuring gesture from nature’s treasure trove of delightful objects. I collect these stones as signs of hope and sometimes give them away. One of my all-time favorites had a fissure down the middle. God heals the brokenhearted is what it seemed to emanate from its center, and so I sent it to two people I love who were in the throes of great sorrow and loss. A token of love.

Another time, I gave a thin and tiny heart to a respected Ute elder. He looked at me in his exceedingly patient manner and wondered if I had misread the stone for an arrowhead artifact. “No,” I said, “it’s a heart-shaped stone.”

And so it goes. In the pocket. From one hand to another. Or, at the kitchen sink where a friend keeps hers. Heart to heart.

My sister-in-law collects them, too, and that was something utterly unplanned as the commonality spontaneously bloomed between the two of us. It’s not genetic, or, maybe in the recesses of the human spirit it is, . . . wanting to find the sparkle in life’s journey.

Sometimes the sparkle in the daily here and there can get a little dim. Just thinking about current happenings in the world can do that. That’s when it’s time to look around. Find a heart rock or two. Get the twinkle back in what and how you perceive. And I’m not talking bling. I’m talking about a deep soul-nourishing joy.

Thanks for stopping by.