Apparently I Talk to Rocks Now

I’ve written in the past about my fascination with the learning process. In particular, how until you’ve learned a particular thing or had a “breakthrough,” you don’t even know what you don’t know. Like, not even a little bit.

I’ve also recently written about experimenting with some serious “voodoo BS,” and realizing that it wasn’t quite as BS-ey as I’d thought.

In summary of all of the above: I’m not as smart as I think I am.

And so with that in mind, I’m working on not being so judgy about the unusual new ideas I encounter as I go about this life. Which brings me to my latest adventure.

A couple weeks ago, I had an initial session with a new therapist. Therapy is one of those things that makes me wildly uncomfortable and has thus far produced inconclusive results. Even writing about it makes me feel a little funny, but here I go anyway.

This particular therapist came highly recommended to me by a therapist-blogger I’ve followed for years, and it’s a damned good thing because at the end of our introductory session, she told me I should go out and find a big rock to sit on and TALK TO IT. I won’t get into the finer details of why or how she came to this conclusion, but I ask you - How does a super-practical person like me continue a serious conversation after such a thing is suggested?

After she said this, she asked, “What do you think about that?” (She must’ve seen the poorly-concealed smirk on my face.) Since I had recently written the voodoo BS blog post, I told her the truth. It sounded ridiculous. In the next breath, I also told her I would try it. See…I’m getting smarter.

After leaving her office, I made plans to have my rock conversation within a week’s time.

I’m fortunate to live in a beautiful part of the southwest where desert hiking trails are readily available. On the big morning, I chose a nearby hiking path and started on my quest to find my rock. The big one.

As I continued my climb, I felt like a confused Goldilocks who was looking for a “just right” that she couldn’t define. In retrospect, the biggest qualification for my rock was to be well off the beaten path so no one would see me make a complete ass of myself.

But find her I did. (Shut up - Yes, she’s a she.)

She was about as big as a small coffee table, resting in the shade of a small palo verde. Nearly black with that craggly look of petrified wood, she looked like she’d been there a very long time. Plus, even if she turned out to be lacking in the conversation department, she didn’t hurt my butt too much. So I sat.

I had brought my journal with me, as instructed, and began sketching all that was around me. This was something I’d never done before. I could see the breathtaking scenery of the open desert with the freeway cutting through it in the distance. It made me think about how quickly we humans have built all of these fast and advanced things, but they still don’t hold a candle to the wonder that was here before.

Huh. I never think about things like that. I’m not a “nature-noticing person.”

And then I began to write. That’s when the tears fell. I did the work I came to my rock to do.

At the end of all of the pain, I took a deep breath, hesitantly reached out my hand to my rock, touched her so so gently, and asked her what she thought of all I’d written, just as I was told.

I’m not sure what exactly I expected to happen. Maybe a bit of magic. Maybe nothing. Honestly, it was a little bit of both.

But something shifted inside of me in that moment.

And that shift I felt gave me an answer I was looking for. Or actually, one I didn’t really know I was looking for. But I don’t think it was magic. And it probably wasn’t the rock.

It was putting myself into that situation. Alone. With all of the beauty of the natural world around me. Leaning into the scary truths I would much rather ignore. Being guided to find my rock and to seek her wisdom.

All of this was the right recipe to be able to get a glimpse of my next right thing.

Once again, it wasn’t about the outcome: Analyzing every piece and creating the perfect plan. It was about the practice. Just do the thing and let the doing change you.

Was it some weird hippy stuff? FOR SURE. But that day, I got what I needed from my rock and I’ll be forever grateful to her.

If you’re thinking to yourself, “Awww, poor thing. She totally got sucked into this therapist’s nonsense,” I really do get it. Feel free to carry on as you were knowing what a silly lady I am.

Or, you could get out there and find yourself a rock too.