 Poetry: July 05, 2023 Issue [#12054] |
This week: Just A Pebble Edited by: Fyn-elf  
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Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much. ~~Helen Keller
Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference. ~~Winston Churchill
Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking. ~~Marcus Aurelius
In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. ~~Khalil Gibran
You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it. ~~Robin Williams
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Just a pebble, a small bit of stone. Perhaps you see it at the edge of a new trail. Perhaps it is at the farthest reach of a wave. Or, perhaps, it is in your shoe. Each is a found thing; a surprise, a gift. From whence did it come? Was it part of a glacial boulder? A piece of lava Pele haphazardly tossed? Trucked in to become a part of a walking path? A chip off what might be the next Pieta? Or just a rock along the road?
In our journeys through life, we encounter many pebbles. Me? I collect them because, in some way, shape, or form, each has a story to tell. 'Pebble moments' are what I call those random times when a bit of rock catches my eye. Usually, they look to be nothing special, but I then tie them to something going on in my life.
When I was young, maybe six or seven, there was a huge round rock poised at the edge of a smoothened boulder. I would climb on it as it was riddled with good places for fingers and toes to grab onto. My grandmother Annie called it a wishing rock and told me that when I had something incredibly important to wish for, I should find a unique pebble, wish on it, and put it into one of the holes all over the rock. I only did that three times while growing up. All three wishes have, eventually come true. I wanted to wish that one day I'd return to live in that house again when I learned we were moving, but for one thing or another, I never did. The house no longer exists, but I have been back to see the rock. I didn't wish though, because at the time, I could think of nothing extra-special to wish for!
I've found pebbles all over the world. One is from near the top of the Jungfrau. Another, I fished out of the Themes. One I saw at the edge of the sidewalk leading into the town hall where Hubby and I got married. Another I saw while on the phone with my daughter as she called to tell me she was mid-elope. Sometimes, I associate them with bigger things than others. Sometimes, it won't 'come to me' until later why I found that 'one' when I did.
Over the years, I've written many a 'pebble-poem' that came from something surrounding that moment, that day, or event. I have pebbles in bowls, in a jug, glued to a frame, or recently, jumbled in the bottle of my purse. Funny too, how I seem to have no issue remembering when I found each one.
When my brother passed away we had his ashes made into small stones. Several of the smallest ones are in my pebble collection. One pebble, more of a small piece of concrete is from when we put down the new driveway and I saved the bit of the old one. Hubby drew a heart in the corner of the new one and wrote our initials and the date with a stick.
I've got a chunk of gold from a stream in Alaska, a bit of amethyst that had no reason to be alongside of a deer trail in the woods, and a piece of coal from hubby's old farmhouse basement where the coal furnace once was. A friend of mine who lives in France sends me pebbles occasionally that she's found on her journeys. Every Trip somewhere seems to add another one to two to the pile. Because, not only am I collecting pebbles, I'm collecting moments and memories!
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| |  | Pebbles (E)
Just keep skimming and follow the stones
#2184837 by Logan  |
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Kåre เลียม Enga   writes: Thank you for highlighting a poem I hadn't reread. I submitted it to a different contest.  Vi får se.
I desperately try to notice things around me. My blogs and journal are full of mundane observations. Because I take hundreds of photos it's important for me to record smells, sounds, taste and touch. The visual is only part of an experience. |
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