Removing a Giant Rock: Mindfulness & Gemstones

Have you ever lived on a slab of rock? Or more specifically, have you ever tried to dig fence post holes, lay a garden, or dig more than three inches in close proximity to an active volcano? We are 37 miles from Mt. St. Helens as the crow flies. Which is alarming to me when I looked that up just now. It took me all these years of looking at it every day to realize just how close it actually is.

Of course, it is obvious every single time we unearth more than three inches of soil. No matter the project, there is always a pickax or a jackhammer involved. Our recent endeavor is to put in a set of workout bars in our backyard. Watching my 250-pound beast of a man husband get the crap shaken out of him, jackhammering rock, and slinging a heavy pickax over the last couple of weeks has gotten me thinking about rocks. Imagine that.

We now have a giant pile of “soil” slash rocks covered in dirt, taking up a new space in the backyard. The rocks didn’t go away. They were laboriously displaced to a new, cumbersome location, no longer nicely underground and covered in green grass. Why? To not have to go all the way to the park for workouts in the middle of winter, when it’s raining, 35 degrees, and dark at five pm.

Now, there’ll be a space conveniently in our nice little backyard. Well, there will be. After laying 7,000 pounds of sand and 150 concrete breeze blocks, fill them in with soil, plant grass in the seams, and wait for it to grow nice and thick. But it’s gonna be great! We will finally be able to do calisthenics in our own backyard instead of going 10 minutes away. Doesn’t this seem like the obvious choice to everyone else?

• • •

The giant pile of rocks could mean more work.

At present, looking at the giant pile of rocks, I can’t help but think, did we just create more trouble than it was worth? Was it really that bad walking to the park in the dark with cold rain pelting me sideways? Was the extra ten pounds I gained over the winter not doing said workouts really that bad? We certainly can’t look at that eyesore of a rock pile for an entire year or more before we address it…

Our solution? Easy. We will just build that retainer wall we were going to wait on until next year, so we can backfill behind the wall with the pile of dirt and rocks. But if we are going to do that, we need to build the cement pilings for the new arbor that was also going to wait until at least next year. Before we backfill. And this is what we do, over and over again. One project leads to another. Before we know it, we have a giant pile of rocks which requires even more “rocks” to deal with.

This is also what my life bag of rocks looks like. It seems like every time I drop a rock, I immediately fill the space again. I’ve recently decided to set down a giant rock I’ve been carrying, on and off, for a few years now. The giant rock has been set down in the far corner of my life for now. Which, by the way, was not an easy decision. Which is why I didn’t throw it off a cliff like I actually wanted to. It’s still visible in my space, but not in the figurative bag I carry every day.

• • •

Who needs a lighter load, anyway?

So, what did I do now that I made space in my life bag? Well, I started a new project, of course. Because why would I simply just enjoy a lighter load for a while? Why would any sensible, chronically overwhelmed person just enjoy a lighter load for a while? (Palm on forehead) To be fair to myself, the project (okay, maybe there is more than one new project), the “projects” are endeavors my true self has been wanting to tackle for a while now.

Honestly, the projects have been more like cats in my life bag. Clawing and howling incessantly to get out of the bag. “Quiet, you in there,” I tell the wild ideas. “I’m trying to carry this giant, seemingly logical rock up a relentless hill for a few more years at least. I don’t have time for you…” All the while demanding that the Universe make a way for me to be happy and fulfilled, and to finally live my dharma.

However, the hill kept sliding out from under my feet. My shoes were filled with painful little rocks from the climb, and the giant rock made me so tired that I had nothing to give anyone I love. Including my creativity. But if I don’t carry the giant rock up the hill, it will end up being another thing I haven’t succeeded at yet. Another rock in the bag, inevitably becoming part of a slab at the bottom of the bag. I’ll eventually have to use a jackhammer to remove it.

• • •

Look to the leaves…

So, having set that giant rock down in the corner for now, it’s time to let the cats out of the bag. I have started my first novel, and I’m loving it! After a small, healthy little pivot in the beginning, I’ve settled into a flow I’m proud of. Finally, I’m starting to thrive again. And, wouldn’t you know, all of a sudden, the lost magic in me has started to resurface. I find the “signs” start appearing everywhere when I’m on >my< path. Like reading tea leaves, I literally look at my stevia packets each morning for something, anything, to reassure me of my path. Not surprisingly, they, along with all other “signs,” have gotten quiet for a couple of years, until now.

Now, aside from my “silly” need to see something in everything around me, I really do feel like I can breathe, inspiration is bubbling, and I’m pursuing what I really want to do. Not before I did a little spiraling of self-doubt and devaluation to be sure. Let’s not get into the weeds interpreting that about me; another post maybe.

• • •

Empty your cup for mindfulness…or your bag of rocks.

Very fitting: one of the authors in a writing guild I attend, Jadyn LaRiviere, recently shared a familiar Chinese Zen parable with the group about a scholar who visits a Zen Master to learn Zen. As the master pours tea into the scholar’s cup, he continues pouring even after it is full, spilling over. The master explains: “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions… How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

Jadyn’s self-reflection on this is beautiful.

The mindfulness practice of emptying my mind and adopting a beginner’s mind when writing guides me. When writing as a child, I was not overthinking my language or storytelling structure. I wrote for the love of it and to enjoy the unfolding of my own imagination. I want to approach all of my first drafts and creative projects with this open curiosity. It allows me to channel more creative power and more easily remove blockages that come from overthinking or anxiety.

So, what happens when we don’t remove the rocks that have been taking up space for so long? How can new beautiful gems of ideas come in unless we do? My giant rock is actually an honorable one. If I keep pushing it up the hill, eventually I will make it, and it will be glorious. Maybe. But what is the cost to get it up the hill? Maybe it is not always the rock that is the problem, but the space it occupies.

Perhaps I was so afraid of dropping the rock because it is what I have conjured in my mind as a valuable stone I must hold on to. But at the end of the day, if the bag has limited space, a rock is still a rock. Maybe that lava rock isn’t helping to capture or refract any light in my life right now.

So, here I am now with a little space, a clearer mind, and open to what gem will fill the space next.

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All images are personal photographs taken and copyrighted by Sue Evergreen