Every day, a small stone from Fiona Robyn arrives by email shortly before I go to sleep. Each stone is a place marker for that day--a little glimpse into the wonder of life--a fragment of poetry that offers a palpable moment of carefully observed grace. From the glittering to the bruised, the mundane to the magnificent, I look forward to these small stones as I would a visit from a friend or the taste of a rare dessert. Thus, when I learned that Fiona was compiling these offerings into a book, small stones: a year of moments, I was thrilled!
What I love most about small stones: a year of moments, is the intimacy of it. We travel through time with the author--with chapters/stones organized by month--and splash in and out of moments lit by imagery that wakes up our senses. Consider this small stone from January:
The sun sags in the sky. Half a lemon sits face down in a puddle, scenting the water with citrus. Everything tightens against the cold.
I can see, taste and feel the weight of early winter in this small stone. And from April, this light kiss of sound and image:
a digger tips its scoop: the sand slides out as if from a cupped palm
July's full-body invitation awakened me to my own full-blooming truths this month:
Lie on your back on the grass, become quiet. One by one, they step forward. The chopped circle of the moon. Honeysuckle scent edging the breeze. Swallows weaving counterpoint, and above them and aeroplane in poor imitation. And next door's roses, punching holes into the evening, as red as the reddest lipstick.
In each moment, Fiona gives us something deeply perceived and fully felt. It's as if we are offered again and again a cup of fresh sustenance from the source that is language itself. Fiona concludes her introduction with an observation about how collecting small stones has impacted her:
As time went on, I got better at remembering to notice the world around me. Not just to notice it but to scrutinize it, engage with it, love it. My eyes, ears, nose, mouth and hands opened up.
I experience her book very similarly. It is both an invitation and a meditation...to enter my own depths and pay attention. To express my love of language through use...to receive each small stone as a holy, ordinary thing. And to live my life in humble service to the words that lead the way.
I'd highly recommend that you keep small stones: a year of moments close at hand and refer to it often. You just may find your whole body opening up a little more fully to the mysteries of our world.
