"What are these," he asked in a curious little boy kind of way.
"They're rocks," I replied.
"Yeah, but what are they for?"
For a moment I was stumped.
I have used these smooth stones to adorn my space over the past few years, after once seeing an impressive number of them along the perimeter wall of a local beach. Stones, washed up from the sea, not of uniform size, placed precariously one on top of another. They spoke to me then; they speak to me now.
Each stack is a testimony to aspects of life: the startling beauty of nature in its nakedness; the power of turbulence to shape, smooth, and polish the rough and rugged; and the harmony present in simplicity.
Lately, these rock altars have reminded me of the balance which has become the essential tempo of my life; for, I live with a chronic illness that drains me of energy in a minute, visits me with pain for hours, and can rob me of sleep for nights on end. I am one of 10 million Americans who suffer from fibromyalgia, a chronic pain disorder characterized by:
too little energy
on top of
impaired memory and concentration
on top of
not enough restorative sleep
on top of
widespread musculoskeletal aches and pain
on top of
soft tissue tenderness
on top of
too many mental and physical demands
Each day, I must strike a workable balance between these asymmetrical elements of my physical world and the desires of my spirit for inner peace, love, joy, and acceptance.
My stone altars are a testament to what a delicate balance that is!
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