The Nature of an Affair

There is a smooth and glimmering stone at the edge of the ocean. She is structured and unique but is unable to believe that unless it is spoken to her by others. She dreams of conversations and goes into an absolute frenzy when one can provide her new learning or dismantle her previous learning. The stones around her are only concerned with the Earth below them, they do not interact with the air. They don’t feel it’s gentle caressing or slow degradation of their surfaces. 

She longs to ask the air questions, but can only listen to its howling storms or gentle breezes. Then one day the air delivers a fierce rain, pushing a river down from a nearby mountain. As it rushes past her edges, it engulfs her like a gift wrapped with brilliant bows. She feels noticed and renewed. The river feels complete and knows it finally can find a sense of calm, for all it ever wanted was to become a clear, life sustaining pond. Day after day his rush slows and begins to gently surround the stone. They do not speak, but they constantly feel each other. His gentle lapping is rhythmic medicine poured over her previously unknown desire for stability. 

The river is ready to create life and the stone, who only dreamed of learning and communicating with the atmosphere above her, doesn't have the boundaries to say, “no.” Even if she did, her words would be lost in the water that now engulfs her borders. Slowly, the day comes when her minerals combine with the water and sunlight to grow moss. It was the most delightful realization the stone had ever had. The ability to form life! The soft, helpless moss becomes her world. 

She desperately wants to tell the pond how it worries her when he drains too low, when there are not enough nutrients to feed on, or when the sun hides behind dark, Nimbus clouds. Over time, the worries dull her only remaining surface and she forgets her uniqueness and strength. The stone becomes lonely and is unable to tell the pond that she wishes to see the sky again and dream. He can only sense her distance, and fearfully covers her underneath his waters, thinking to nourish her and the moss. All he knows is how to surround and support.

Knowing he has the gift of mobility and transformation angers the stone beyond all reasoning. She is stuck and can’t convince him of his stagnation. She can’t tell the pond that she is drowning. When she suggests she needs a breath of fresh air, the pond reluctantly agrees and lets the sun slowly evaporate the water particles around her. Her first glimpse of the sky is intoxicating, like watching a budding flower emerge in early spring. Inhaling the newness and vastness once again, her desire for freedom becomes overwhelming. How does she explain this to the pond?

A subtle sound stirs her as one day a gull flies in from his long journey at sea. She immediately and secretly wishes for him to land on her exposed surface. As he scans the area, he catches sight of her minerals glimmering in the light and decides to take refuge on her seemingly leveled exterior. He tells her how her sparkling flecks were so noticeable from the sky. All investment in the pond has escaped from her consciousness with the rush of novelty and compliments. 

What newness! His stories begin to flow with the viscosity of raw honey. She is enamored and content, feeling a different surroundedness than the one previously provided by the river. His feet dance across her surface and she is at the mercy of her own desire. Knowing he will eventually take flight once more, her judgment is clouded. She can’t communicate her fears and covers her moss, lying to herself that she only wants to protect it. All the while, the gull begins to enjoy her open and giving demeanor. Yet she continues to fear his aplomb grin, imagining how a coyote might play with a young animal before tearing it to pieces. 

She was concerned with only objective reality, knowing that flight was not an option. The gull was concerned with the bigger picture due to his ability to see beyond the horizon and across immeasurable surfaces. The stone and gull could not talk, but they met in dreams. Where the air pulled her apart, particle by particle and she was carried by the wind along with the gull. The forces of erosion were so much slower than either of them wanted to believe and required extreme patience. 

Oddly, she was beyond capable of this power but had lost herself along the way. She began to feign strength and the gull became interested in returning to his flock. To wander and scavenge was something the rock would never be able to join him in. He left without a goodbye, and she was left only with blotches of his defecation that the pond would eventually become aware of and have to help her clean off. She couldn’t tell the pond what happened but he knew. 

And with the motor skills of a child untangling a necklace, they both decided to focus and repair what could be straightened out. The moss continued to cling to the stone, while the nutrients continued to come from the pond. And the gull played in the troposphere without much thought. The stone continued to dream and slowly realized that the gull was only walking all over her in his own shit. Sadly, she was never able to tell this to the pond as she could barely admit it to herself. 

Who can you envy in this cycle? Well I would say it’s the air. The one who needs no communication and provides mobility to all creatures and cycles. Eventually the gull will die and his bones will be dried and pulverized into sand. Perhaps the wind would be so loving as to erode the rock and join their particles? Perhaps the air will lap back at the water and they can talk among the undulating ripples and waves, for the pond only wanted constant companionship. 

The air gets to stretch and crawl into all crevices of life and lives. Places where stones and even gulls can only dream of.