Synchronicity, Part Two

As many of you know, I collect things: dried hosta stalks, bird skulls, beach glass, rocks.

One year, I used a sharpie to write on a few “special” stones and by special I mean somewhat flat and easily held in the palm. One stone down in the basement reads, Let the breath take you deeper. This is a catch phrase of a meditation circle I’ve been part of since the late 80’s (and incidentally, might be the only instruction one needs in order to learn to meditate).

I made a few of these and as far as I knew, they were either in the cellar (below) or I’d given them away.

My writing bench upstairs and the surrounding bookcases are hardly free of clutter. However, the clutter does not include bowls of rocks or shells. There are no freestanding rocks, either.

But somehow, this stone showed up near my power strip a few days ago. I was flummoxed. As flummoxed as I was on Sunday when I made a special trip to the grocery store for cilantro, bought cilantro and parsley, and could only find the parsley later. The cilantro disappeared. Or, to put it as a dear soul gifted with ADD and Irish blood might: the cilantro fucking vanished.

But here’s the thing. The dude abides. Yes indeed, when I flipped the stone near the power strip over, it read: the dude abides.

I have NO IDEA where the rock came from. It’s the inverse of the missing cilantro — the stone just fucking appeared.

Thank you, Universe. Nice to know you have humor in your bag of tricks! If there is any take away here, I think it has to do with appreciating and celebrating one’s tribe.

I lose cilantro but I also make stones appear.

** I didn’t seal the breath rock and it faded. At first disappointed to notice this wispy script, I later decided it captured the nature of the breath better than clearly defined text.