Shortly after we first met, Andy gave me this rose quartz stone emblazoned with the word ‘Angel’ on it. Back then, I had little to no faith in such talismans, but something in his earnestness, and in the way he believed, set me at ease, and I accepted it graciously. When we lived apart in those early days, I’d hold the stone close to me when I was alone at night, envisioning much of the life that has unfolded since then, or at least wishing and hoping for it. He felt closer to me then.
The first two photos were taken in the evening, by the glow of candlelight. It softens the appearance of the quartz, and the polished surface of the stone is easy on the hands, comforting in the folds of a palm.
Through the years, I held onto it, keeping it in Boston, for those weekends I was away from him. It was a comfort, a little bit of Andy could be in both our homes.
In the morning it glows differently in the sunlight, with a bit more hope, a stronger radiance ~ exactly what is needed to greet another day.
I held it in my hand. Closing my fingers around it and feeling its calming influence stilled the chaos of the world. Eventually the heat from my body warmed the stone itself, and soon it seemed to emanate its own warmth, pulsating with energy and life, returning some mystical mirth to my heart.
I didn’t realize it when I started doing this that it was a form of meditation. In those moments of quiet and stillness, I allowed my head to clear itself of whatever was ailing it. I inspected each thought as it came across my mind, then let it go. I examined every nagging concern, turning them around in my head, then let them drift off. It was all right to acknowledge them. It was ok. After some time, the thoughts and worries came less and less frequently. Soon, there was an expanse of clarity, a vast plane of clear thought. It didn’t happen instantly, and some nights it didn’t happen at all. At those times there was simply too much, and too little time.
Eventually, though, I found the clarity again. It is always there, waiting to be accessed when we have the time and effort, when we can let certain things go, release resentments, set free our judgments, and accept what has come to be. Those are all easier said than done, but with work and perseverance it is possible.
That possibility greets us every morning. It’s in the cup of tea streaming tiny particles of water above its surface, waving and undulating in the morning sunlight. A new day begins. Every morning is another chance.