As a child I was a collector of things. Lots of things. One of them being rocks. Though my tackle box of rocks is likely long lost, I still have an affinity for stones. When I travel, I’ll pick one out to take home with me. Sometimes I get extra nerdy and gift them to friends. There’s something about their permanence, and history that piques my interest.

Some say stones emit energy.Some say this is merely the power of suggestion. I prefer to think of these in tandem as the power of intention.You get out of it, what you mindfully put into it. Do stones emit some sort of super ultra-power? No. But can they can be used as a tool, as a suggestion, as focus, to accomplish a certain task? Certainly. Everyone’s got their things, ok? Just let me have my hippie things.

I recently purchased this Moss Agate necklace from Awakened Jewelry. I was drawn to it for several reasons:

I have an affinity for agates.(It’s the layers, man.), green is my favorite color, and the dichotomy between the stone’s raw and natural texture in comparison with the gold leaf surrounding it makes me think that this piece is particularly beautiful.

Did I seek this stone for a specific task or goal in mind? Yes. Do my readers get the privilege of knowing what that is? No. Even hippies need their secrets. 😛 Just know that the task has been accomplished. 🙂

After my visit to the farm, my mind was buzzing. Humming with inspiration, ideas, fellowship, questions, joy, and I was aware of this bombardment of thoughts with an acuteness I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Mind and body, I felt….awakened.

This was certainly not the first time in life that I’ve ever felt this way. In trying to wrap my head around this feeling, I looked through some old journal entries to identify similar experiences.

Meg’s Moments of Being: As Scrounged Together via ClusterFuck Journal Entries of The Past.

Standing on top of a friends SUV under a perfect, star-scattered infinity-sky. Observing a procession of 100 paper lanterns creep forward in a single wavering line, until they evaporated into the crisp halo of the white full moon. Playing such a small part in a large world. As witness. As participant. Utterly powerless.

Walking through the forest of my childhood after a fresh snow, surrounded in silence, save for the occasional scuttle of tiny unseen living things, and the shuffle of my own two feet. The world was frozen, yet subtly, it still carried on. All was quiet and if you listened, you could become a part of it. I sat on my knees. I slowly brought out my camera. I looked up, and discovered a white owl looking directly down at me.

Watching the blood moon eclipse. Talking about the human condition, mistakes, choices, and reactions, in relation to the way that tree branches grow in the spring. Hugs. Philosophy. Laughter. Vulnerability.

Standing at the top of the cliff that we shouldn’t have climbed, after crossing The River that we shouldn’t have swam across, after finishing the ridiculous amount of cheap beer that we shouldn’t have annihilated.

Coming soon: Artist cooperatives. New Blog Names. Things. Stuff.