The Stone in the River

A Fable.

There was a stone at the bottom of a river, shining in moonlight. The stone didn’t know what she was for, or why the cold water rushed over in a loud thrumb, or why the spruce tree grew on the bank, or why the deer hooves clanked over head, or why the crayfish hid in the nooks of her body. The stone didn’t know why her shape and weight, why her cool smooth surface. 

Why any of this? 

The stone longed to find something of worth in this existence.

And so the stone, so still, went into contemplation for thousands of years, as the water slowly wore down her body. She noticed how the trees, crayfish, and deer came and went. And came again. Cycles of birth and death swirled and cycloned in all directions. She noticed how the water clarified her of un-needed layers, surrendering herself to the cold flow. She noticed the moon, its eternal light returning through cycles of empty and full. And finally, the year arrived when the stone arrived at this: 

I am a home for the crayfish, seeking rest and protection.

I am a witness of the trees; their long spans of wisdom and passing. 

I am a step for the deer, hooves supported by my strength and solidity.

I am nourishment, releasing beneficial elements to the water.

I am a mirror for the moon, that it might gaze upon its own radiant light.

Her stone heart cracked open. Abiding in this beauty was the answer to all her Why’s. Enough it was to realize herself as an ancient part of this Great Making.