Nor Iron Bars a Cage

Those of you still around that followed my old blog site may have seen an excerpt from my upcoming book called Every Stones A Story.  (Don't eeeeven think about it.  It's already copyrighted).  This isn't about the book, but a story of a different sort.  It's a story about a boy........and his love for stones.  It goes something like this..........

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a boy who loved stones.  He loved rocks and pebbles and stones and boulders of every different kind, color and variety.  As the land he lived on was rocky indeed, he was able to spend most of his free time perusing the countryside for stony treasure.  He searched in the sunshine.  He searched in the rain.  He searched in the cold.  Nothing could deter his search for the perfect stone.

On nearly every outing, the boy was able to find some agate or pebble that caught his fancy.  He would place it gently in his soft hands, rolling it over, feeling every bump and smoothed edge.  He fascinated at the colors and the minerals.  He found something he loved about each and every pebble.  Sometimes the boy would put the rock in his pocket or knapsack and carry it around for days, taking it out over and over again to wonder at the unique quality of each new prize.  And then, without exception the boy would discard the stone in search of another.  Often he would throw the treasure in a lake and watch as the ripples made their way across the smooth surface.  At other times he would toss his rock in a stream and know that regardless of the size, the stone changed the flow of the water forever. 

When he grew to be a man, the boy was on one of his fabled hunts when he came across the treasure of all treasures.  Before him, under the shade of a giant Oak at the edge of a wide meadow, was a pile of rocks of every imaginable shape and size.  He knew there must be thousands, if not millions of his stony passions..........all in one place.  He put down his knapsack and began to search.

Carefully, oh so very carefully, the boy who was now man, began to pick up each rock one by one.  As in his youth, he would look for the best in each and every stone, bask in its glory and then toss it beside him and move on to the next stone.  For hours and days and weeks and months the man enjoyed the stony treasure, tossing each aside as he was finished with it's examination.  Oh, how he loved the fine, unique qualities of each pebble, each rock.  "Magnificent!  Beautiful! Colorful! Rough! Smooth! Solid! Pithy!"  They all were different and yet wonderful in their own way.

What started as minutes, passed into years and one day, under the light of a new moon, the man stooped to pick up the very last stone.  Like all the others, this stone was splendid in its own way.  He took his time to relish in his last treasure and tossed it aside.  Saddened by the fact that he had exhausted his find after such a long time, the man turned to leave.  Surely, there must be other more splendid treasures to explore.  It was then the man made his most important discovery of all.  Surrounding him in a perfect circle, was a wall built by years of tossing stones.  There was no where for him to go.  He was entombed by his own treasure.  Trapped inside stony walls, a reflection of his years of repudiation.

He sat in the middle of his stony castle and laughed to himself at the predicament his obsession had presented.  What was he to do now?  He could have cried for help of course, but no one had seen the man for years and considering he was some miles from civilization, crying for help did seem a bit silly.  After all, it was HIS mess, right? 

As the sun began to rise, the man looked carefully at the walls of his creation.  Although each rock was beautiful in its own right, together the individual jewels made the most amazing monument.  Before him, in glorious wonder, was his life in stone.  His life work.  His experience.  His wake.  There was only one thing to do.  The man stood slowly, brushed the grass from his jeans and began looking at each rock again, placing them back in the middle, ever so slowly creating a path by which to leave.

No one really knows whether the man ever escaped his tomb.  But you can be sure of the lessons he learned.  It most certainly is wonderful to find glory and beauty in every treasure you find, but discarding many in search of the one slightly more perfect, can only leave you trapped and alone.  There is no "perfect" stone or treasure.  There is only the treasure perfect for you.