The Man who Listens to the Rocks

We were waiting for our breakfast burrito at the picnic table lunch area at El Parasol in Espanola knowing from past experience that it would take a while and was well worth the wait. John spoke  about an aggressive young couple  who drove a BMW and had the room beside us in our funky little motel.  "He was obviously aggressive and successful and expected life to reward him financially." John said.  "And he had a fit little trophy wife with a pony tail sticking out her ball cap as well."  "Yes" I said and probably a republican with a personal trainer.'
That opened the door for the rock man sitting at our table to speak to us and give us his personal philosophy of life as well. He had been listening to our conversation and has a slight smile on his face and nodded every now and then.
The man who had joined us at the table had a long scraggly gray pony tail and I could see one of his bright blue eyes looking from the side under his sun glasses.  I had expected he would have brown eyes.  In fact they were that bright German blue eye color.  He was probably in his late 60's or early 70's and he spoke with an accent, probably an American Indian accent.
He had been listening to us talk and now he joined in during our long wait for our to go Mexican lunch.

"You may not believe me but the great spirit talks to me through the rocks." I eyed him closely.  He did not have diluted pupils, he did not smell like booze.  He looked calm and steady so I listened and could not just write him off.  "You see, I rub these rocks together and if you rub them just right they will talk to you."  I listened closely to the difference in the sounds as he hunted for the talking sound.  Finally they sounded lower kind of like ocean noises and he said, "See, there it is, the rocks are talking."  He continued.  "I found one of these in Peru and one here in Santa Fe.  And look, see how they are so similar?'  He handed me the smooth warm stratified rocks and I had to agree.  There was only a slight difference with the one from New Mexico being a bit darker.  I handed them to my husband who was listening but not adding to the conversation and he agreed.  I put the rocks like a treasure back into rock mans hands.

I tried to stare into his blue eye I could see under his dark glasses.  "There is an understanding. " he said.  "You may not believe me but the spirit tells me through the rocks that there is understanding.  It is the sound of meditation.  Can you hear it? I can talk to people and tell them how I feel but it is not the same.  I am from here.  I traveled to the shrine in Mexico.  A man asked me on the train why I was going to the shrine.  I told him because my son was graduating from high school.  Why? He asked me 2 more times.  Because my son is graduating from high school. No,  Why really?  Because I am looking for the window and the mirror.  I did not understand why I said that but later, on the square in the town in Mexico a man came to me with a stone in a rag.  He opened the rag and inside it was a quartz crystal.  The man said 6 pesos and this is the window and the mirror for you.  I did not understand.  And then I took it to my Mexican friend who has many rocks and said he can protect me from any trouble when I travel in Mexico if I just say call him or say his name.  I showed him the rock and and he took it from me and drew a line on the table.  He the put the rock over the line and I saw a mirrored image, two lines.  Next, he held it to the sky and through the hole of the rock I could see the sky.  You see he my Mexican friend told me "Look,"  when you look at the mirror image you have a perception of life but when you look through the window you have reality. This is what the rocks tell me."
"Number 95! Number 95" the speaker announced at the window of the restaurant. He smiled, "That is me."
"Number 96! Your order is ready." and that was us.

We smiled at each other and said our niceties.  And he walked off into the parking lot.
John and I looked at each other. "That was a moment.  A special moment and knowing moment about life.  Was he really there or was he a spirit?"  said my ever loving and usually so skeptical husband.
The rock spirit man drove past our picnic table and waved us good bye.

I paused, I wondered and we cut our breakfast burrito in half and ate it and drove on to Ghost Ranch.











I sometimes wonder if I should listen so carefully. Should I care and open my heart to others so easily.  Oh, what I would miss if I did not care.  I think I will keep listening.

There was another man in Hawaii I listened to at the City of Refuge.  They had similar souls.  He tried to tell a young man to not let his dog run loose in the park.  The young man just ignored him and instead of getting angry he said, "A person cannot hear until they are ready to listen." and he let it go.