Do you have anything that you’ve carried around for a long time?
Maybe it’s something you’ve literally kept in your pocket or in your car. Or maybe it’s an object that has traveled with you as you’ve lived in different places.
I have a rock.
For a while, I actually called it my pocket rock, because I carried it in my pocket. It was given to me in 2011 by a loved one while we were both on a beach along Lake Michigan. It’s a wishing rock — a black rock with a white band all the way around it.
These days, I don’t wear pockets very often. I’m usually in dresses and leggings, so the rock doesn’t travel with me the way it once did. But I still keep it on my dresser. That means I’ve held onto this rock for about fifteen years.
There’s nothing particularly remarkable about it. It’s just a rock from a beach. And yet it has stayed with me all this time.
In my work, I co-lead a program called Project UPLIFT, which helps people living with epilepsy and depression develop tools for managing their mental health. During the program, we always do something called the pebble exercise. It’s a mindfulness practice.
We invite people to bring a small pebble to the session. Then we slow down and spend a few minutes simply noticing it — its size, its shape, its color. We ask people to imagine where it might have been before it arrived in their hand.
When participants describe their pebbles afterward, they often notice far more than they expected. The act of slowing down changes the way they see something so small.
The therapist who co-facilitates the program then says something that I love. If we can bring this much mindfulness to a tiny pebble — something we might otherwise walk past without noticing — imagine how much mindfulness we could bring to the larger, more significant parts of our lives.
That’s a good question.
One of the things I’ve noticed over the years is that many participants end up keeping those pebbles. They carry them with them long after the program is finished. And it’s always touching to hear that those small stones have become reminders to slow down, notice, and be present.
So I’ll ask a few more questions:
Is there something you’ve carried for a long time? Something small that has traveled with you?
And if so, what might it be inviting you to notice?
Smuggling Grace 