In the Presence of Stone

We have the ability to shape the Earth in a conscious way. Not only in the incidental ways of leaving footprints and fossils, or the mistaken ways of turning forest into desert or mono-cropped fields, but in creative and reverent ways.

How does it feel to leave a mark on Earth, in the way the dolmen builders did, which is about honouring it rather than taking from it? 

I think this comes from a place beyond the survival instinct.  Beyond making sure I am OK in this moment.  From a place in us that is willing to take a bigger step than is comfortable.  A place that is prepared to move mountains for the benefit of life on Earth.

Leaning on the stones I felt their stillness and my springiness.  Their density and my breeziness.  Their coolness and my warmth.  I don’t completely understand this dolmen, but I know I like it and am glad it is here.

I just be with the stones.  In the presence of their unmoving mass I feel my bones.  I feel something in me which creates movement, breathing, singing, hunger.  Life.  While the stones go on being in the same spot for millions of years.  I feel the potential for movement in my skeleton, the self-propulsion of my body.  I feel my own fleetingness on Earth.  The fragility of my life.

Stone and bone are self-organised into elemental structures.  All life shares these elements.  Over millions of years the stones will turn to dust, to soil, to plant life, to animal life. 

Maybe they will experience what it is to breathe, to eat and to sing.  For a flash in time.  Before turning back to dust and rock again, to be moved only by wind, water and hands.