The volcano explodes with a force not experienced since the creation of the universe. Boulders and rocks were thrown into rivers and stream beds hundreds of miles away. A grotesquely beautiful jagged rock sits on a stream bed and mindless of the death and destruction around it passes into eternity. For eons that once distinctly beautiful rock has been washed over by countless millions of gallons of river water to become just another ordinary smooth stone.
All of us have gotten an itch every now and then, a feeling somewhere on your body that demands to be scratched. In Alaska in late spring it is mostly caused by mosquitoes the size of B2 bombers. Whatever the reason it is just not, for the most part, something you can ignore. There is one itch that no amount of physical scratching will sooth and that is a mental itch and I have been plagued by one for quite a while now.
Many things effect our daily lives and when a number of these are out of balance we look for ways to re-align them and to some of us this problem manifests itself as a mental itch. That is a problem or situation that comes to the mind’s surface throughout the day often when we least expect it. If we allow it, it will consume us and we will think of nothing but how to solve an unsolvable problem. And herein lies the rub… if this goes on long enough the itch becomes an obsession and if we allow that, it will consumes us.
I began this posting by describing a grotesquely beautiful, jagged rock being thrown miles from it’s birthplace by the force of a volcanic explosion. I ask your indulgence in that I propose that our lives could be remotely compared to that rock. We are born and live our lives every second of which we are being assaulted by outside forces. Some of those forces we absorb and they causes us to grow positively and some cause an erosion to some part of our being. As we travel through life these forces mold us into what we are today. For some of us we still have some of that rough edged persona, never allowing outside forces to mold us. For others we are polished smooth by the years of existence.
A young boy walking by a stream bends over and unknowing of its history
picks up that flat smooth polished rock and after eons of erosion
quietly skips it across the stream where it begins a new life.