...of Marbles and Stones...

Last night I held a keepsake in my hands; I looked at it, opened it, considered what it meant to me... Until this morning, I owned a little box with a hinged, locking lid. Inside the box are many small, colorful, polished stones...and one translucent, red marble. I've had it for years. I purchased two somewhat similar 'trunks' along with stones and marbles, along with some other pretty little things, when I bought my first and only house in 2003...which house I no longer own. I wanted to make the house look pretty. I wanted it to feel happy and good when people entered therein. Though I lost the house, I kept some of the little pretty things to remind me of what I once had, and how it was beautiful, and how I used to think it was mine... It really wasn't mine. I was passing through. None of this belongs to any of us. We are only temporary stewards of the things we think we own. Even if only parted by death, we will be parted from our things in time. The things I've let go of are gone. I can't get them back. They're out of my hands now...There are reasons for having let go. Just as there are reasons to hold on. So, why do we hold on to things? They mean something to us on an emotional level, don't they? They mean we are happy. They mean we are successful. They mean we are married or that we are a family. They mean we are in love. They mean we're parted from someone we love...or use to love... The symbolism in anything is why we hold to it. It means we had a great grandfather who was a well respected leader in two cities, in two states...the thing means we had a grandmother who played with us and made clothing for our dolls. That box of rocks used to mean something to me... it's meaning has changed, over time, and now it means something different. Today, I gave it away to someone who means something to me. We do that, don't we? We give meaningful things to those we love. We give them cards and gifts; tokens of affection. The little treasure chest full of polished stones used to mean my house was pretty and welcoming...then it came to mean my house was gone, and only a few reminders remained. After a while, I looked more closely into the small chest of stones, and it meant to me that beauty remains and can be found, if you look closely, even when all seemed to be lost, and imperfection remains. This morning, as I was leaving the little container with my dear friend, it meant "Me." I am the chest of stones. Within the small, simple box, with the closing, latching lid, are many colorful, polished stones of differing sizes and shapes. There is nothing perfect in any one of them. There is the one red marble, out of place, within the same container. The marble is a reminder that the true beauty of the contents are not found in the marble. A box full of red marbles is pretty (I used to have that, too), but it's not as beautiful as the stones. And no one can really enjoy those red marbles because they're only decorative glass. They break and roll away when you try to play with them or even look at them. That's why I don't have most of them anymore. They didn't mean enough to me to keep. The stones, on the other hand, are distinct and beautiful. You can spread them out on the table or floor and look at them...how each is different...or similar. How even the similar ones are still distinct from each of the others. It's not the perfect shape or color that makes the stones beautiful. It's the collective variations and imperfections that make them so. Choosing to hold on or to discard the beautiful gifts given us, is a personal choice. No one can choose for you. I have given something of myself to one I love. It is gone from me now and I cannot get it back. Nor do I regret having given it. I hope it is meaningful to the one to whom it was given. But that is out of my hands.