Being humans we cannot know all that much of a stone's joy at being worn away, simply because we are humans and not stones. Is there even such a thing as joy for a stone? A stone may be ancient and yet never have experienced joy. Or does a stone constantly experience joy?
I look at the round, smooth, grey-white, stone in front of me. It begins to speak to me. Just this one. Even though there are countless stones lying on the long beach. The sea swashes and sings, entices my senses.
“I bath in the waters of the sea and allow the waves to rinse my spirit,” says the stone slowly. “I feel light and immaculate in the water. Pure being.”
As it speaks, I feel how my brain is empty. Nothing. Relaxed. As if the sea had washed out the thoughts. SURRENDER. My body, my soul and my being surrender to the water. In this lightness I feel being stone.
I give my outer layers to the sea, let sand and waves grind me down. Become softer and softer. Crude becomes refined. Rough becomes smooth. I am offered gifts and I offer. I offer the water: sand for the beach.