Reflection 2/9 - Viewing Stones

I'm so sick of writing about things I don't know, and I'm sick of the fact that my life is seemingly composed of those unknowns. I want to write of revelations and certainties, and hope. I want my life to be like a smooth river stone, unique and substantial. I love the feel of stone, the feeling of immovability against one's fingers. Pure substance, dense and smooth. How much of that purity and solidity comes from its lifelessness, I wonder. You feel the rock, but surely what you press between your fingers is a pocket of pure universal substance, that stuff that makes up the world. I like this word, solid. I even like the thought of the world being a lifeless mass of stone, the thought that I could press my face against the dirt and the sand, and dig my fingers into the ground and hold on as the world spins. This all reminds me that the world is indeed spinning, tracing grooves in space, cog in cosmic chronometer. Maybe if I held on, I wouldn't feel so much like I was an accidental smear of bacteria on someone's masterpiece pencil drawing. I would cling to this spinning stone, and maybe then I'd learn something.