For years, I scrambled up and over and under the desert of South Western Arizona with my sweetheart and my brother and his wife. We would go early in the mornings and brave the heat of the whole day seeking gemstones and treasures and loading up the back of our tracker with such treasures. Those were the days. I never thought they would end the way they did. These days, I am scrambling down banks and up on gravel piles and get to spend a day or two in a bubble of memory. I no longer scramble. I sit my butt down and just immerse myself in the beauty, the rough, the sharpness of loss for all of us. My sweetheart is basking in silver and gold of the next life. My brother has had major heart surgery and cares for his wife that has vascular dementia, and only I am left, hammer and claw in hand and seek the solace of days gone by in the activities of gemstone seeking.
Last weekend was a double-header of field trips. As I blogged the other day, I found lots of opal on Saturday, and on Sunday I found very little agate, but it is not the stones I am going for any more. It is the sacred memory of my hands seeking something beautiful, in an activity that was lovingly shared before and can never be wholly recalled. But I feel closer to them all sitting on a pile of rocks.
I did find a few nice pieces of agate. I tend to go off on my own and not gather where everyone else is because, well, all of above. It is something deeply sacred to sit amidst rocks and immerse myself in seeking bits of agate or opal, as I did last weekend. It almost feels primal. And, although I did not find many, there is something thrilling about finding bits of agate amidst the dusty stones piled around me.
The quarry was dusty and quiet and I reveled in wandering off and climbing up the great piles of rocks, seeking agates.
This agate took me a couple of hours to find. I moved piles of rocks, became one with the stones as I sat up on the great piles of rocks at a quarry.
After a few hours, I was spent. But, I found some interesting agates and will soon take them to the shop and do some cutting, sanding, polishing.
Here are some very valuable finds I made in South West Arizona Mountains and desert: (They are valuable enough that the geologist told me to get them into a safe and only bring out one at a time to sell.)
I am scrambling around on rocks and digging trenches and spend the whole time in a space of remembrance. This has been a sacred time, this year, not so much grief, but active remembering and honoring. I notice the difference in my grief as it tends to be more sacred than grief, if that makes sense. I miss my old life, but I can get a sense of closeness to it as I do this rockhounding just now. This rite of passage is losing it sharpness.
©Carol Desjarlais 8.26.20
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