On Why I Like Pebbles

A beloved with helper tendencies tells me:

“I have an urge to tromp in and sweep every pebble off your path so you don’t stub your toe.” 

This is my appreciative response:

Pebbles

Sometimes pebbles get in your shoe.
Most people think that is a problem. Some people even get angry or sad about that pebble, and start telling themselves stories about how it isn’t fair that they always get the pebble or maybe if they had better shoes they wouldn’t have to cope with so many burdensome pebbles. Some people don’t have much feeling, so they don’t even notice the pebble. Or they notice and just don’t care. That’s the saddest way to feel a pebble in your shoe. To notice and just not care.
And then some people, the “way out there” ones that feel a little less like humans than the rest of us (or maybe a little more?), they notice that the pebble helps them be more aware of their foot. They notice that they’d forgotten to notice that foot all day, and here is this little pebble reminding me that I have a foot. Some people don’t have a foot, they think, and that must be sad, but I do have a foot, and now I’m remembering how great that feels and so in this moment, I am happy. Happy about this foot, happy about this pebble, happy about this moment of awareness.
We went to a mandala dance where people had gathered.  They built houses and a dance floor in the middle of the woods because they noticed that when other people come along, it helps to remind them that they have a heart. Just like the pebble in the shoe, the other people draw our awareness to ourselves in a way that can be experienced as a problem, or a burden, or a blessing, or as care.  And these people were mostly trying to mostly see that as a blessing. So they had a dance to celebrate that dance, and they invited us.  
And they brought pebbles. And flowers, and spices and we put them in bowls around an empty circle on that dance floor. All night long, the dancers paused to sit around that empty circle and make it less empty. The children helped too. We dripped pebbles and other little gifts into patterns that felt like the patterns of the people dancing and the way my heart feels when someone notices me. They call that a mandala dance.
A mandala is a celebration of impermanence. Like the thought about the pebble, like the dance, like a lover, a mandala is a human creation meant to help you notice that you forgot to be aware of God today.  It is a practice in this contemplation:
Some people don’t have a connection to source and that must be sad. But I have found my connection, and now I am remembering how great that feels and so in this moment, I am happy. Happy about this foot, happy about this pebble, happy about this moment of awareness, happy about this love, happy to be here where people can get in my heart as unexpectedly as when a pebble gets in my shoe.
Pebbles are nice. I like pebbles.
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2 thoughts on “On Why I Like Pebbles

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