We are all on the journey of mining for gems in our lives. Every time we move towards looking at the truths – realities, emotions, good, bad, and in between, we are mining for gems…we are refining…for it is not in the rocks that our wisdom lies, but in the gems. And it is in our gems that we live and share wisdom. A little tale about gems…
I am sandstone. I am made up of layers of quartz, feldspar, and lithic fragments. I crumble with much contact and yet in me there are gems. The pain from the chiseler is so great for as he does his work parts of me crumble, disintegrate, fall to pieces, leaving little to garner. The chiseler knows there are gems in me, but I know not only the pain of the chiseler but also of the loss, breakage, disintegration.
I am a metamorphic rock and I have been buried deep underground; under the depths of dirt, sediment, pressure. I am too solid to break easily. I am separated, as a piece is broken off. The chiseler pounds hard, harder. He brings out a bigger mallet, a sharper chisel. He takes angled nicks at my exterior. Pieces chip away, but his sculpting is challenged. More nicks, more angles, more chips. The next strike with his mallet is a deciding crack, a freedom to proceed with the sculpting, the refinement, there is a greater angle of purpose. The time it takes to break away the depths is greater, at times more difficult, but the same, the same purpose, the same goal.
I am igneous rock, volcanic rock, solidified by years of heating and cooling. I know much of the metamorphic’s experience. I know the refining process. I know the chiseler’s purposes. I know the same process. I also know like the other rocks that streaming waters, at times flooding waters, are so much a part of my process, my refinement – I know. Water needs to accompany the hands of the chiseler, if not we all would find little purpose but sediment, gravel, and dust. At times even the waters become the chiseler, it is the only way.
The chiseler labors knowingly. The rocks endure the course of action. There is a persistent effort on the part of the chiseler. There is an enduring stripping experienced in the refinement. There would be no purpose in the refinement if there was not an outcome, a new way of being, a new purpose, if there wasn’t something to labor after – the goal of every chiseler, a gem, a precious gem. The process is painfully the same, no matter the location of the mining. The type of gem doesn’t really matter, for its value is in the eye of the beholder.
The chiseler’s hands are strong, the fingers etched by the streaming waters and sediment, but in the process and labor there comes many gems – precious, valuable gems. Take pleasure in the gems…others will too.