Do you remember when worry stones were popular? Those smooth, sometimes polished little weights to carry in one's pocket that gave the worrier something to rub, or joggle, or simply hold while thinking through a vexing problem, or roll over in the fingers while mulling over a slight, real or imagined, given or received. One significant feature of these stones was their plainness. Perhaps picked up on a walk along the beach, or a hike in the mountains, they might catch the eye for their perfect roundness, or particular color, but would otherwise be quite plain. A found worry stone could signify a specific time and place, a crisis point that carried the weight of decision, or the calm of a pleasant memory. Could a smooth little stone in one's pocket produce a calming effect, give nervous energy a focused outlet to soothe the urge for frantic pacing? These stones were quite popular years ago, but I don't see them anymore, at least not for sale in little baskets by gift shop registers. Perhaps they weren't effective, or perhaps our culture has adopted a more positive outlook, a determination to choose cheerfulness.
It's likely that the urge to pocket little stones, and other such bobbles, will remain with us. There is something attractive about the weight and solidness of a little stone, something pleasant about roundness and surfaces smoothed and polished by the rolling surf. We may always be inclined toward the keeping of such talismans. Worry stones, as such, however, have been replaced by stones no longer plain. Gift shops now display little baskets full of stones with single words painted or embossed upon them, such as love, peace, or happiness.The stones may be of similar size, shape, and smoothness, but the addition of a single word changes their nature in a significant way. Rather than calm a worried mind, or draw one back to a place in time, these stones are meant to inspire the spirit. Intended as prompts toward those states of being to which we aspire, these little stones tell us what to reach for, to claim somehow as our own. They point us to a brighter outlook, encourage us to eschew those wearying states of worry, waiting, wanting, and wondering.
The popularity of these wordy stones has reached beyond the pocket and into the garden. Large stones of various shapes and sizes can be found to grace the garden with words meant to inspire or perhaps to simply affirm. The stone in the picture above is one such, the word gratitude engraved right into the face of the rock. It was given to Flo by a dear friend of hers some years ago as an expression of such. I received a thank you note today. I always appreciate receiving them, they affirm that I've done something worthy of someone's notice and thanks. I had given a little gift, and this kind note was a welcome response. Flo had given much and her friend responded by setting her gratitude in stone, a lovely gesture that I know was appreciated.
Though I can imagine a garden stone with the word wonder engraved upon it, I doubt that I'll ever see one that says worry, or impatience. I'm pretty good at worrying and not so good at waiting. Perhaps that's a commonplace, a good reason to suppose that I'll never see such stones in anyone's garden; we need no encouragement to fall into those kinds of patterns. Though the stone in our garden was given as an expression of gratitude, it remains as a reminder to be grateful. Ann Voskamp, author of "One Thousand Gifts" which tells the story of how gratitude changed her life, says "Everyone gets to decide how happy they want to be because everyone gets to decide how grateful they are willing to be." I think there's something to that, and yet I don't think it's that simple. I don't think life boils down to simple equations such as gratitude = happiness.
A certain settled peace, and tears, often well up together in me when I am stirred by gratitude. I am often moved by the beauty of this place in which I live. Just now I'm watching the golden red sun sink through the trees out the window of my office. I've been sitting in its golden glow for 20 minutes, and now the sky is pink with one small intensely red spot, the last glimpse of the setting sun. Yes, I'm grateful for the years I've lived in this marvelous place, and saddened at the thought of moving away, and weary with the waiting. Perhaps I need a stone that says patience.
