Stones with naturally occurring holes piercing them are known by many names, and are treasured by those who are lucky enough to find them. It's been said that such stones are not found, they find you. Perhaps it's true. The one in the picture above was the first holey stone to enter my life. I found it on a beach in San Diego when I was a little girl, maybe five years old or so. I instantly felt a strong attraction to it, and for years I wore it strung on ribbon or yarn, as a necklace. Sometimes people, including my parents, would ask me why I wore such an unattractive thing when I had much prettier trinkets. I couldn't really explain. I lacked the words to describe the quiet happiness and comfort I felt while wearing it or holding it in my hand.
I was a somewhat weird kid. I saw things that other people didn't see, heard things that other people didn't hear, and learned early on to be very careful about who I told about those things. Eventually I found the disapproval and scorn to be unbearable. I took off my strange necklace and shut up about my odd experiences.
But I did keep it. And would bring it out from time to time. To hold in my hand, and remember the child I once was. The child who heard angels sing above an open field near Lake Elsinore. The child who revived her mother's nearly dead houseplants, who animals both wild and tame followed around, who met and spoke with a lady in the Whaley House. (Who, as it turned out, had died over a hundred years before). I'd hold that stone, and let myself remember. Above all, I'd remember the happiness of sitting quietly with animals and plants, water and stones...feeling uplifted. Accepted. Loved.
As the years passed I found other holey stones. And kept each one as a gift, a treasure. I'd attach them to windchimes and bells, walking sticks and staffs, set them on windowsills, tables, and bookshelves. There's a lot of lore regarding such stones. Google "holey stone" or "hag stone" and all sorts of pictures and links will come up. Here's a pretty good article for anyone who's interested- mysticalraven.com/…
Yesterday was peaceful, a quiet happiness shared at home with my children. By evening however I'd had three phone calls from two desperately anguished people. My husband called me twice from the jail he's in. His mother called me from her home down in Mesa. I won't go into great detail about those calls other than to say that they left me feeling drained. And sad.
I went to my room to start reading the book my daughter gave me. (Ariadne, by Jennifer Saint. It's terrific so far) And for reasons I'm not sure I can explain, I felt the need to bring out that stone heart. To just hold it in my hand. Eventually I fell asleep still holding it. It was under my pillow when I woke up today.
I felt the desire to wear it again. To feel it against my skin, next to my heart. I hunted around for a thin, soft thong of deerskin to thread it on. And placed it around my neck again for the first time in fifty years. It warmed to my body temperature in moments. It feels like it's been there forever.
Maybe it has.