8/16/10 Stone
Help! I have rocks in my head!
I want dive into stone, to be inside that patient, secure, slow-moving mass. Would I feel its heart? The heart of the earth, which they say is made of iron? Lots of iron in the stone around here.
I want to dive into stone, to move my arms around, like I’m choosing the position I will be fossilized in. Not an accident, not Pompeii, not cavewoman fossil Lucy or anyone else, but a dance in stone that will take an eternity, but only when I’m ready.
When I was a kid, we’d borrow a hammer from the junk drawer, and go out side. We’d take gravel from the driveway, and pound each stone to pieces on the pocked sidewalk, experimenting with which type of stone makes the best chalk, the glassiest-inside sharp-edged gem.
What would it be like to be made of stone? Heart of stone, stoned, turned to stone by medusa, by Vesuvius or another means. Born in flame, cooled by water & air. They say that the molecules in stone move—but slowly. Patience, strength, versatility, reliability. What would it be like to crumble from the side of a mountain, to ride on someone’s back & be fitted to the wall of a house, to bake in a fire & then provide heat, steam, sweat, to warm in a little oven oiled & then be set on someone’s back for massage? Would I love being the stone warmer as much as the massagee loves the feeling of warm stone?
When I was in college, some friends and I used to go to this beach that had lots of small, marble & finger-sized, glacially & wave-rounded stones that would bake warm in the sun. We would just pick them up & lay them on our bodies, absorbing the heat & smoothness, long before hot stone massage was a trend.