I am making a bag of
rocks that need new homes. Rocks and an extra railroad spike. I don't know why
I'm still carrying these heavy things around. I can let them go. I don't know
where they're going yet. I'll know those places when I find them. If I'm going
to do this, I should figure out the reason and the purpose.
I'm choosing the
"Life is a Journey, Not a Destination" bag.
C always liked to
pick up souvenirs. Everywhere we went, he'd ask if we could bring home a
souvenir. He got kid in his voice when we talked about it. I don't remember
where most of these rocks came from. Picked up in our travels and displayed on
the altar, wherever it was. I need to put a more concerted effort into building
my altar. I have a start, but I don't have a lot of intention.
There are other
rocks in the kitchen, because the glass jar that used to be the meteorite jar
is in the sink because I decided that if I am going to continue to have this
thing, I might as well make it shine. The meteorite jar was a souvenir from one
of our very first dates, exploring in Highland Park. It is a reminder that
once, things were good. It's hard to look back on it now that I see it all as
part of the trap.
These rocks need new
homes. I feel like they should be returned to nature, or at least to the
ground. To dirt, to concrete, to other rocks. I took them from their homes to
put them in mine. I like this idea about moving rocks. They can't move by
themselves, and yet they do. They travel so far for things that can't control
their movement. And when they stop traveling, they tell long, long stories for
anybody who knows how to look. I can aid them in traveling. In the
process of releasing these heavy things that I no longer need to carry on my
own journey, I can help them to continue theirs and have a journey where one might
otherwise have stopped.
