I squeeze the malachite stone as if it was one of those “stress” balls used to relieve tension and exercise the forearm.
My fingers play with it, pressing it to the palm, one finger at a time. I feel muscles strengthen. I switch the stone from the left to right hand and place a“pointy” section of the rock between the index and middle finger. It stays put while I do some minor tasks. Driving the car, cleaning the litter box, preparing food for the microwave. Gotta remove it to type, however, but I place it right below the monitor screen, elevated on a 4-inch wooden platform. Now I can not only see it but remind my psyche to absorb the energy from such proximity.
I obtained the malachite stone Saturday. I felt drawn to it. You see, I got “nudged” by two people from two different fields of life to visit the “Rock Star Gallery” in the Mt. Airy section of Philadelphia, PA . Tracie Nichols, co-director of Eco Libra (see Time travel a stone’s throw (or hold) away), and Jody Schwartz-Levy, a Soma therapist working out of the Resiliency Center of Ambler, PA, had recommended the place.
Jody used stones that Tracie had helped the young psychologist handle in her current practice. Can you imagine my surprise less than a day after attending a “Stone Listening Circle” to come across someone who not only knew the instructor, but displayed the same stone I had been drawn to only 15 hours earlier!
There was a malachite rock. Spread on the carpet with other stones as Jody told the “soma” participants to let the stones help us, if we chose to. I did. It helped. And some three hours later, I braved a torrential downpour to find this “Rock Star Gallery” that she and Tracie recommend I visit.(See rockstarcrystalgallery.)
I was soaked by the time I got out of my car and walked into the store. And that was with an umbrella that had got blown inside out several times as I jaunted the few feet from my car to the entrance door. But the trek was well worth it. Once inside, I saw stones upon stones, rocks of all shapes and sizes and an uncut crystal as large as the ball dropped in Times Square to usher in the New Year. Well, maybe not that big, but you get the idea.
Two people greeted me. A tall blonde-hair young man named Josh, who spoke and smiled as gently as a fawn, treating me as if his only pleasure in the world would be to serve me. Then I saw the owner, Kate, a tiny wisp of a woman, who didn’t walk like you and me, but seemed to glide as if floating on the air like a fairy with magical abilities.
The 29-year-old woman was no pansy, I assure you. She’s an excavator, who actually “mined” the land in Arkansas, digging for several of the stones adorning the many shelves in the store. She studied dance and “performed” a step or two of some “interpretive” thing, but having last danced to something called the “Mashed Potatoes,” I didn’t recognize it.
Josh directed me to one shelf at the rear of the store when I asked for malachite. There were some 10 pieces in different shapes and sizes, each with a tiny price tag on them. I picked up one at a time. Fingered them, felt them in the palm of my hand. And then chose the one. It charmed itself into my life and I plan to hold onto it .
Again and again.