Rock Star

You know how a song’s middle-8 is a departure? And when you finally get back to that last hook you’re absolutely delighted? Well, same with life. Every so often I need to take a break from my raison d'etre in order to return to it later with enthusiasm. 

My husband and I bought a little beach-front investment property some years ago. We rent it out on VRBO but with Covid abounding they shut down rentals for a while so I’ve been spending time there myself. I have to admit I’m not hating it. 

Walking the mile-long stretch of sand last week I came upon some beautiful rocks and put a couple my pocket. And then a few more and a few more. I thought about this “bed” in the front of the house that would look so pretty filled with rocks — if I could manage to collect enough of them. It would definitely improve curb-appeal.

So on my next stroll I brought a plastic pail and walked down to the jetty on the far end of the stretch which seemed to be attracting the lion’s share of ocean fodder. I filled up that pail and hoisted it onto my shoulder like the waitress I used to be and carted it back to my house. And then I went back for more. 

After about 10 exhausting round-trips 😳I remembered I had a bicycle in the garage. I could simply ride down to that jetty, fill up my pail and ride back. Duh.

I felt like this:

The “garden” was filling up nicely. I started losing myself in this activity, the way I do when I’m writing a song and it seems as if everything else around me is disappearing. (I believe we call it the zone.) But I wasn’t writing a song. That’s the thing. Each morning I woke up with this new purpose. 1- Brush teeth 2- Get more rocks!  

At first any gray stone would do. But on a day when incoming inventory increased I became more selective. Before bending down I considered size, smoothness of surface, unusual color or shape — walking right past the ordinary. Now there were coral rocks, green rocks (which would pop nicely against the backdrop of all the gray), heart-shaped rocks, even rocks with geometric designs. I couldn’t collect them fast enough and I couldn’t stop...you just can’t get this stuff at Pottery Barn. 

I did NOT Sharpie that rock!

I was obsessed, imagining people were watching and judging me. Was I stealing from the ocean? Robbing it of its a natural resource? There are plenty where these came from. Every wave washed up a fresh batch. 

And every morning they landed in a different place on the shore depending on the direction and force of the tide. One morning that tide ushered them up right smack in line with my house. Amazing! I wouldn’t have to walk (or bike) all the way to the jetty. And there were thousands of them. I hit the rock jackpot. The rock lottery. I was beside myself. Songwriting? What’s that? And these rocks were even more spectacular than the day before. It’s as if 2 planets crashed into each other and their pieces fell to earth right in front of me!

I mean… Come On! How beautiful are these?

Soon enough the bed was full. I stood back and pridefully pondered it. I have touched every single stone in this garden with my own 2 hands. I’ve curated it much like a playlist except instead of songs...rocks! Well done, me!

It’s been quite a restorative experience…finding this new — what to call it —meditation? project? something to take my mind off of the B.1.1.7 variant? All of the above? All I know is that it must have served a purpose. I heard on a podcast that many of us have been turning our attention to the earth, nature or gardening for our mental health — towards something new that has nothing to do with commerce. Uh huh.

I drove back to my Laurel Canyon home singing at the top of my lungs: “Maggie, I wished I'd never seen your face” and “Come And Get Your Love,” cherishing music a little more than ever before. It continues to save me on a regular basis. 

But now I’m also really digging rocks. 

Oh and…Yo aprendo español. (I’m learning Spanish) 😬

Get out of your comfort zone. No matter how old or young you are. Do something different. I recommend it highly. 

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