Are you fascinated by rocks? Or maybe fossils and ancient artifacts? These objects have a special pull. They hold stories from a world that existed long before us, or maybe it’s just the way they rest, quiet and lasting, in your hand. In museums and archaeology, we’re trained to study these things with scientific care. We sort, measure, and analyze. We search for the data in the layers of sediment to learn about our planet’s history.
Even though I usually take a scientific and practical approach, I still feel the mystery in the physical world. One day, my friend Tonya Anderson, who trusts her instincts more than data, asked me to reach into a bag and pick a stone that would “represent” my spirit.
At first, it seemed like a sentimental activity I didn’t really have time for.
But when I reached in, I pulled out a beautiful brown and black stone. It wasn’t a perfect gemstone. It was battered, worn, and tough, shaped surprisingly like a heart. When I put it on my desk, I noticed lines that made it look almost see-through as it caught the light.
Now, that stone sits on my bookcase next to my work tools. I’m still surprised by how much it inspires me. Even with all my logical training, I think it shows something important about my spirit: resilient, weathered, but still clear.
Listen for stories from a world that existed long before us
It reminds me that we often focus on the what: what is this object, where did it come from, what does it tell us about the past? But there’s also the who. Who are we when we find these things? We look for meaning. Whether you’re a museum visitor looking into a display case or someone picking up a stone on a walk, we all want to feel a connection.
I still thank Tonya for that simple, surprising exercise. It always reminds me to find joy in unexpected things. If someone ever asks you to reach into a bag and pick an object that “speaks” to you, I hope you listen. You might discover a message you didn’t know you needed.
