Entry Archive: October 9, 2005
Contentment
The small stone tumbled haphazardly down the side of the mountain, bouncing along the shale with a "pok pok pok" as he fell. By the time the little rock had landed in a grassy outcropping several hundred feet below, he was very confused. He was also up-side down, though he barely noticed. He was a stone after all. Perhaps in a few hundred years he could sort out what had happened just then, but time moves slowly when you're a rock, so he had plenty of time to spare.
His new surroundings were quite pleasant. The grass on which he lay was tender and smelled like summer. A battered tree further up the outcropping shaded him from the heat of the mid-day sun. Wildflowers grew nearby, scattered about like polka dots against the scrub. And beyond the outcrop was a view of the valley below, both beautiful and serene. There was a gentle breeze now, and the sound of the wind was pleasing had he the ears to hear it.
Being made of stone, the little rock knew none of this, for he had not the facilities to hear or feel or smell or see.
But he did sense that he was in a better place, and so the small stone was content.
Sometimes I envy the life of rocks.
Comments
That's very zen. And relaxing.
Ignorance is bliss, then? It definitely does have its appeal every now and then. But really, as a rock, the most exciting adventure you could have is to be picked up by a child and skipped across a lake. Or built into a walkway to a cool mansion. Or thrown at the back of a little boy who teased you about your curly hair... oh wait, I'm projecting again.
kiss
But with my luck, I would be picked up and skipped across a lake and then be gurgling for an eternity in the silty bottom.
I've always beleived that ignorance isn't bliss, but rather, postponed pain. As for the life of a rock: I'd never want to give up the ability to hear, feel, smell, or see... Regardless of whether it protected me from pain or not.
Ah, but your little stone can still smell summer, according to your story. So you're not quite fossilized yet.
Alas, the grass did smell of summer... but the little stone hadn't a nose to enjoy it!
Well, that little twist just makes it more and more interesting...we'll have you all psychoanalyzed before too much longer.
Hmmm... I've always wondered what was wrong with me!
Please give me a detailed report once you've finished your analysis. This would save me a fortune over starting psychotherapy. :-)
A possible case of 'evilus genius'. Report to your local police station for treatement.
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