Like Water over Sharp Rocks

From Rock Series, acrylic and mixed media, 2008

I had a rock collection growing up. I kept it in a tin can under the stairs in our basement. None of my finds were geologically significant, though I thought they were. The most valuable rocks were the polished ones. Most of my polished rocks came from various souvenir stores--the stuff-as-many-as-you-can-into-a-little-black-bag kind. One of them I found in the creek behind our house. While it is very likely that this particular rock came from a souvenir stash upstream, I chose to believe it had been polished the hard way, over thousands of years, molecule by molecule.

For some reason, the rock I found in the creek meant more. It had the same surface quality as the others, but as in most aspects of life, there seems to be value in doing things the slow way.

Today I heard someone use the phrase "like water over sharp rocks" in describing changes that had taken place in her friend's life. I like that. Like water over sharp rocks, atoms of hydrogen over atoms of carbon, your rough edges and mine are being refined. Over time we will become the best versions of ourselves--still individual, unique, identifiable--but able to shine with a raidance only achieved by years of almost indiscernable changes.

By the way, my chamomile plants sprouted. As of the last ten minutes, there is no apparent growth.