Small Stones

I’m taking part in the Small Stones challenge by Fiona and Kaspa at Writing Your Way Home. Each day in January, we are writing a “small stone”: a brief piece of writing which engages fully the present moment. Here’s what it’s all about:

Most of us have crowded, busy lives. It’s hard to remember to pay attention to what’s around us – to pause and really listen to the blackbird’s song, or to notice the bright poppies by the roadside. But when we really pay attention to other people & to the world, we start seeing things more clearly – we become more intimate with them. We feel more loved and loving. We feel more at home in the world, with others, and in our own skin.

We pay attention by writing. We write short observational pieces called small stones, and we write in our journals, and we write books. We want you to help you wake up to the beauty of the world through writing too.

I’ve been sharing my own Small Stones at the Writing Your Way Home website, but it just occurred to me to publish them here also.

So below is the backlog, the remainder to follow day-by-day.

One

New Year’s morning. The board is bright white, the knife dull silver, the lime vivid. As I cut, juice coats my fingers. Thin slice then sharply fragrant in the mug of boiling water.

Two

Downstairs. My knee creaks. So does the step.

Three

Immediate prayer requested for a gravely sick child. My mind flusters. Is there a correct way? Do I believe it will help? Prayer chains of unknown people in India pressed into action: what nonsense. And yet yes, I do believe it will help. So I write his name on a piece of paper. I draw circles around it to encircle him. I picture him surrounded by love. That’s one way to pray for a gravely sick child.

Four

Cord jeans smooth and bumpy under my fingertips. Velvet with attitude.

Five

With a whirr, two alarming bumps, a wheeze and a loooong sigh, my printer springs into life, surprising me after a minute of silence with a gentle burp.

Six

The colours in the supermarket are too bright. Oranges and pinks clamour for attention. Even the fruit and veg are too noisy and look plastic.

Seven

The honeyed drift of scent from the jasmine candle next to my bed is suddenly undercut by a sharp animal tang from the cat litter tray in the bathroom.

Eight

Plump warm raisin pillows nestle in their creamy porridge bed then pop their luscious sweetness against my teeth and tongue.