The stones on the shore are all at various stages of completion.
Some have not yet become fully rounded. Some are still too big. Most have no identity at all. There are countless numbers of them all huddle together, each waiting to one day become interesting.
A few unusual candidates I see have small round holes in them. Some, the holes go right through to the other side. They are special.
The stones where the holes don't quite go through to the other side will need a few more years to become ready.
A couple stones along my beach walk appear to be perfect, both in shape and smoothness - tumbled by the ocean and then cleverly left lying there on the beach, just waiting to be discovered.
An holey stone catches my eye. I reach down and pick it up.
It will stay in my hand as I walk.
I roll it's smooth shape in my hand and probe the finger sized holes as I walk along the beach looking for others
There is no rush. No agenda.
My eyes go into neutral looking down at me feet.
My focus is on nothing, so that I see only the stones that are really something. The 'finished' stones.
I will bring back two or three of them in my pockets every time I visit the beach
In time, eventually, if I keep coming back here over an infinite number of visits, the sea will have completed the task of tumbling every one of her stones into unique works of art. And I, by then, will have brought back the entire beach with me.
