I sit before the computer, ready for revelation, seeking the spark that will ignite my creativity, a part of me patiently waiting and another part eager to engage with something of substance. Random thoughts slide by, rootless and disconnected, reminding me of lazy summer afternoons trying to skip rocks across the surface of lake water.
We searched for the right saucer shaped stone, heavy enough to go the distance and light enough to bounce when tossed with the power sidearm, the throw that gets the low flight and the most surface area of rock against the water to last for multiple rebounds. We counted the skips before the stone dipped out of sight, disappearing into the depths. Most tosses yielded only two or three disappointing hits but the effort pays off with that one marvelous moment when all the factors conspire and you count the crescendo 4-5-6-7-8-9 skips before it dives.
It is as if I am looking for that perfect stone, the shape and heft that feels right in the hand. I let the thoughts and images that do not fit the form pass by instead of playing the game and perfecting my skill, forgetting the beauty of imagination that can follow any toss, even the skip-less thuds, all the way across the surface, noticing each bounce and splash, and how it breaks the veneer, slowing and arcing into the fall, noticing what it disturbs as it sinks from its own weight, until it lands, settling and merging with the color of debris on the lake floor. Perhaps the whole history of the universe could be traced in the toss. Perhaps the future is forever altered by this single act. We do not know the impact we have or how the moments we toss over the void ripple across the universe. I toss this notion across the thin surface of "reality," amused with myself: Writing when I have nothing to write sometimes yields playful prose!
Photo, Prose, and Recital © Nick LeForce
All Rights Reserved
Did you skip stones as a child? What was your highest skip count?
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