Lost Loved Ones, Copper...and Black Tourmaline

I thought I'd share a strange but thought-provoking little story with you.

As many of you know I often have a spaz attack at a moment's notice and run off with my camera gear to trek around in search of a weee bit of visual treasure.  Last Thursday morning I shot up to Yosemite for a single overnight in pursuit of the ever-elusive Firefalls.  That short story, shorter - success!  w0ot!

When I am possessed to run off one of the things I take with me in addition to my gear is one of my mom's favorite copper bracelets, which happens to have Native American runes of sorts on it. It has always meant something immensely personal to me...not only because it was my mom's but because I have always felt I harbored a far more Native American spirit than anything else.  This was similar to both of my parents as well, seemingly a strong part of their own bond, at least in their beginning.  I always bring (the idea of) mom with me because she was one of the best people I have ever known to be ready to run off at the drop of a hat on any kind of adventure.  If you actually dropped your hat, before it hit the ground she would have her backpack (and she always had her favorite pack packed and ready to go just in case something arose) and walking stick at the ready, standing in front of you looking excitedly, expectantly into your eyes.  Not unlike a lovable canine family member whom you had just spoken the word 'Walk?' to.  oboyoboyoboyoboyoboy!!! 

That was mom.  

She also loved rocks. 

Now, I could give a lengthy description of the day's (and night's) excursions but that is not what this is about.  That said, Yosemite is a mystical place to lose your self into, even moreso when you have the opportunity to witness several of nature's most incredible events and share it with others.  The next-best thing to a floe of lava off a thousand-plus-foot cliff to massive rock formations being bathed in moonlight and wispy, low-lying clouds.  I can't recommend enough your need to go experience this place for yourself.  But if you do, go in the off-season.  Too many people make it less enjoyable. 

Big, black ravens also like shiny odds and ends, including some rocks.   These are Yosemite's equivalent of camp robbers. 

In a turn to possibly mess somewhat with your head, I consider and have always considered myself a rather classic a-theist. I don't believe in 'gods' but that doesn't mean I don't believe in something...I maintain a very open mind, attempting to always accommodate others' ideas and work them into something that makes sense to everyone.  There are trillions of lives on this little world of ours, all with their own perspectives.  From a blade of grass to a ladybug to a blue whale. 

Waking early after having barely slept due to a mind grappling with too many new artistic twists and ideas I didn't waste any time getting started packing up.  I had gotten what I wanted from this little trip, time to get moving.  I had hefted my gear a little way into Camp4 to find a high and dry spot as much of the ground had been heavily saturated by the preceding days' snow, rain and meltoff.  Not liking to make trips I packed up everything but my not-yet-broken-down tent, my sleeping bag, and a large, heavy blanket I like to cover the tent floor with as a mattress...not something I bring backcountry by any stretch.  

It is a small tent but good enough for a very cozy couple.  I had left the cover flopped over the top toward the back.  There were very few other people around, and even fewer stirring at this time of the morning.  Cold and clear.  The tent's entry was entirely unzipped with the 'door' tied to the side out of the way.  The sleeping bag was bagged up at the foot.  When you looked inside, all you saw was the sage-forest green of the heavy blanket that covered the floor of the tent...and the little pebble that rested right in the middle of it, about the size of a penny. 

Realizing it wasn't a twig, leaf or cone that had fallen from the trees above...it looked like it had been 'set' there.  Purposefully. 

I paused long.  I knew it had been placed there...it just wasn't some random occurrence.  I could feel it, and it was the tiniest of the tiny bit unsettling.  That unanswered question.  There was virtually nobody else around and I hadn't spoken with anyone in over twelve hours.  What made it even less something that could be dismissed as coincidence was the fact that, upon closer inspection, this was not just any rock.  It was matrix, surrounding a petite, black gemstone.  A few small gemstones.  Even if someone had placed it there, why?  And how would they have known that both I (and my mom, who was 'there' with me) have this special relationship with Earth's treasures?  What are the odds? 

It is a whimsical little stone...still looking at it sitting here on my desk with me.  It had its best side (placed?) up, the side with the best demonstration of the gems in it. I can't get over that.  And, to make things worse, I'm a photographer.  I didn't take a picture of it, not even with my phone.  Why not?  I thought about it.  Why didn't I?  I still can't get over that fact.  It was such a scene.  It had weight.  Gravity.  Purpose. A story...?  Or maybe that story is still playing out? 

Come on now...seriously?  

I consider myself someone who is capable of immersing myself in the deepest of Spock-like logic, but I also know I am made up of the most sensitive stuffs known, and thus my mind ran away completely with it.  My cerebral hemispheres have been at odds with each other almost the entire time since its discovery.  Did a raven accidentally drop it (right there, centered, gem side up)?  Did the raven place it there...to share, of its own accord?  Possibly...seemingly the most likely...they are extremely intelligent and have been known to do things like this.  But could it read some energy about me?  Was I worthy, or could it sense that I would appreciate it?  Was it a possible trade for hope of food?  Or was there some energy communicating with a raven, asking it to put the pebble there...mom?!  In some new form of self-aware consciousness that is able to communicate somehow with those of us 'here'.  I mean, seriously...I had to entertain that thought, because while I can't prove anything along those lines, I just as certainly cannot disprove it.  An unnoticed squirrel?  Not a bear...while it is my beloved spirit animal I know they'd just swallow it along with whatever else they could find to nom on.  

Was I being told something? 

In the end I did entertain leaving it there on a picnic table or rock for others to find, but ultimately there was no way this fragment of Earth was not going to stay with me forever.  At the very least it is a memento of a great memory along with my photographic record of a fantastic natural event. 

Writing is therapy, as I always say, and I think my conclusion is that a raven did ultimately share it of its own accord with whatever purpose it had in mind, but I cannot help but wonder...


©2016 Michael Pichahchy