For the first few weeks, we’re going to focus on the past - the history of your place - for it hasn’t always looked the way it does now, and it won’t look the same way in the future. But, you don’t have to look in books to learn the history of your place because there are clues all around you if you have the eyes to see and the ears to hear. Your place has a memory. The past is contained in the present.
Part of this year’s project is realizing that we humans are not the only participants in the drama unfolding around us. So, let’s begin with something a little unusual, with perhaps one of the oldest inhabitants of your place, the very rock that serves as the foundation upon which you live. It was here long before you and will surely be here long after. What memories do rock hold?
Deep-Time Geology
There are always powerful forces at work, from within the Earth and without. Your place has evolved over billions of years and is still evolving, whether you can see it or not. I’m lucky to live near the powerful force that is Niagara Falls. And, it boggles my mind when I realize that it has receded seven miles in the last 12,500 years. That’s quite a dramatic geologic story.
Rock is formed over deep-time through processes of melting, cooling, eroding, compacting, and eventual wearing away. At the base of the Niagara Gorge, where rock meets river, I can touch rock that is 400 million years old.
Consider these questions. Is there a geological formation - a mountain or range, valley, plains - in your place where you feel a special connection? Why is that? Where is the oldest rock in your place?
David Abram speaks beautifully about rock in his book, Becoming Animal, paraphrased below.
“The apparent fixity and inertness of rocks is an inherited concept rather than any direct, sensory experience of the mineral world. Stones seemingly have no agency or experience, yet simply to exist is an active thing. You and the rock are not related as a mental ‘subject’ to a material ‘object,’ but rather as one kind of dynamism to another kind of dynamism—as two different ways of being animate. The stillness, the quietude of this rock is its very activity, the steady gesture by which it enters and alters your life.”
Practice
Your main practice for this week is to be aware of rocks throughout the week as some of the oldest inhabitants of your place. Notice their colors and textures, their unique rock-ness. Although rock seems inanimate, it is wearing away slowly over time.
Ideally, I’d like for us all to spend at least 15 minutes sitting on a rock, doing nothing but sensing and observing. You could go to your favourite geological formation or to a high place where you can survey the landscape or to the oldest rock you can find. Feel the connection. Imagine what this rock might have experienced over the years. If sitting is not possible, due to weather or other reasons, just notice and touch rock as much as possible.
Remember: Each practice has a specific purpose but the overarching goal of all of the practices is to redirect your attention, away from a screen and even your thoughts, to the place where you are. So, even if you don’t feel the practice itself is of interest to you, please do it anyway. You’re developing a habit of being in the moment and asking yourself, “What is this moment asking of me?” The answer may be as simple as giving your full attention.
I’d love to know, how did you listen to rock? And, what did you hear or feel, if anything? If nothing else, just be grateful for rock and it’s role in your place. Please share your experiences in the comments or on Instagram (add the hashtag #seeingyourplace2022).
Resources
Read my post: An Obsession with Rocks
The Rock Cycle from National Geographic
I picked the coldest week to be sitting on a rock but managed to do it today, although not in “my place.” I’m visiting with a friend on a lake up north. I chose a large rock on the shoreline, with shades of gold and grey, it’s sides covered in snow. The 15 minutes went by way faster than I thought as I sat and felt the cold, hardness of the rock surface. I wondered about how long that rock had been there and how it just sat there, experiencing all kinds of weather and water and animals and people. My sitting was a way of providing some warmth on the chilly day. I felt the rough, gritty surface and some of it came apart in my hands. Yet, it will be there for many years more I’m sure. I observed people ice fishing on the lake and it was very calm and quiet, a slight breeze coming from the south.
Your post reminds me of Anne Dillard’s Teaching a Stimr to Talk. Looking forward to the Hum of Silence.