Day One Hundred Ninety-six

Feeling the stone for what it is. It is on the heavy side and then on the light side, both in relation to my mood, my feeling, my hand. It is pleasant, and then unpleasant, and neutral after a while. At times it is even nothing at all, out of touch in a way. Finally it returns with a new significance, an anchor in a storm. Until this anchor I did not even recognize the storm, the attachment, the aversion, the doubt. Storm and stone are still a good life, a sturdy little house on an emerald coast, knowing it's place, weeping and laughing with the clan voice of the wind.