I Love Rocks
This piece appeared earlier this month in YA Cancer Gabfest's Gabster Magazine.
When it comes to rituals, there is no rulebook. I really wanted one 20+ years ago when I was just entering what I like to call the Woo Woo Lane. I was appreciating in others their use of candles and their love of heart-shaped rocks found on hikes and trips. I walked into a very Woo Woo store in Charlotte where I lived at the time and basically asked for a guide book. I was told “do whatever you want.” There was opportunity in that.
I like rocks. I have rocks from a lot of different places, some of which I’ve left in the gardens of yards of past homes, some of which I brought with me. Some are from the US, some are not. Some are gifts from others who know I love rocks. In some places visited, rocks remain there because they felt too sacred to remove.
So - how to get into it?
Rituals are things we could think about from our childhood, to get the juices flowing, to connect to what feels good and right to us. For example, having a real Christmas tree growing up - I loved that. My mother came to dread it because of the mess afterwards. My dad wasn’t a gigantic fan either, but he knew that I was and would take me to go get the tree. This was a ritual: picking out just the right one.
From the time I was a young adult and single well into my middle aged years before I met my husband, I got my own Christmas tree. It did not bother me that I wasn’t “with someone.” I relished this celebration. I would go pick it out just as I had as a child. I would decorate it. The unpacking and remembering around holiday ornaments was a ritual, many of the ornaments given to me by loved ones. The tree tells a story. I would position the tree in a place where I could see it as soon as I drove up to my place. I would set a timer so that when I came home from work after dark, the tree was waiting for me, lit up like a beacon of welcome.
When I began working in oncology as a social worker, I became a witness to the lives of others. This has been one of the greatest of life’s privileges for me. There were times when I felt moved and helpless as a witness traveling along their paths with them. I began buying votive candles in bulk and created an altar at home to light a candle for those individuals. It was my way of turning it over to something higher than myself. It was comforting. It was something I had faith about. I still do.
A ritual to call your own may be shifting gears from “the way it’s always been” to “this is the way I want it to be.” Some of that may be the same. Some of it may be brand new. A mash up! When teaching a holiday journaling program for Cactus Cancer Society, we consider what would make our holidays great. That often means reclaiming some part of that time for oneself. It is a revolutionary step of self-care.
I found Naoko Stoop, a wonderful illustrator on Instagram last year. A print that became a gift has a wonderful setting of a young person on a couch, under covers, wearing a crown, with two cats and a dog in their own cozy spots. A fairy, a dragon, string lights, snowflakes and a ship all hang from the ceiling. Books are prominently featured. You can tell that there’s creativity in abundance on a table with tiny bits of paper, scissors and an open journal. The young person with the crown has one foot propped on top of the couch while reading. I don’t care what my age is. I will always love this because it represents so much of choice, what you want to be surrounded by. Ritual is an invitation.
Rocks are things that I like to hold in my hands. There’s a shop in downtown Asheville called Enter the Earth, where the staff includes a person with rainbow-colored hair. They are all very serious about the rocks and gems, what they represent, their powers. I smile a lot listening to them. I have rocks from there all over the house. I have informative cards the serious employees include in the shopping bag to make sure I understand what I’m taking home (all of which is good).
We have a big yard, and I hope for the earth to be well and be nurtured. I researched what crystals and gems are good for the garden. Chunks of rose quartz, obsidian and amethyst (among others) are now placed around the land. There’s no guide book. I made it up.
Rituals can shift and change as we grow older. Some of them stay. The rocks and the votives - they stay. Some of the rocks in our home are from the Ligurian Sea, where the water is the color of teal, where giant white boulders can be seen far below the surface. Some of those sit in a cairn in my office.
I spent time with a godson on the shore of Pearl Island in the San Juans off of Washington state where there are pebbles on the beach rather than sand. He told me that he felt like the pebbles were sacred. I came home with a supply and give them out regularly. I tell that story to convey a message: here’s a little sacred something- something for you. I took my nephews camping when they were younger, and one of them still has the river rock he got from one of our trips on his desk. He’s in his 30s now. These are dear memories.
A while ago, my husband and I shifted from making resolutions or goals around the new year and instead moved into a ritual of visioning. We make it up. We take turns with big pieces of newsprint, speaking out loud what is in our hearts while the other captures it. It used to be that I wanted there to be a theme. Now, I just see what comes. So the ritual within the process can shift and change. There’s opportunity in that.
When the seasons change, I open the windows and doors and clear the house with sage. I walk around our property waiving sage in the air. The prayer (or mantra if you prefer) is something along the lines of release what is no longer needed; invite what is meant to come. Then, practice detachment from the outcome.
Rituals, ultimately, I think, are for one’s spiritual self-care. What will fill you up? What will make you feel connected, whole, content? Not perfect. Not what you should do. That connection piece is the common thread for me. It is about faith and trust. All of it feels sacred. So get out there and play around with it. Do whatever you want. Wear the world like a loose garment and be open to possibility. Have fun.
On this Winter Solstice, I hope your sense of ritual feels inspired.
Try this:
Light candles and turn off the lights. See how that feels and then write about it.
What is one thing that is ready to be released? Open the front door and invite it to leave, thanking it along the way. See how that feels and then write about it.
Get outside and be near rocks, boulders, mountains. See how that feels and then write about it.
Let me know how it goes. I’d love to hear from you. You can email me at fsconsulting2013@gmail.com.