As I was walking home I saw a rock that inspired in me some strong reaction, a sentimental feeling of fondness.  Much like Proust’s narrator being stricken by the beauty of a flower or a church steeple, I was stumped by this very ordinary rock.  As I walked on a moment I recalled a memory this rock had thrust upon me.

Several years ago, on a sunny and slow day, a former student of my theater teacher’s returned to impart on us some of the knowledge she was gaining at a professional acting school.  She had decided to take us on a right-brain walk.  The purpose of this silent activity would be to engage our creative right brain; to act on our impulses without carrying judgement or logic into the interaction.  So we began our quiet exploration of the school campus.  We felt free enough to climb trees and to roll in the grass, to move around in ways we hadn’t in a long time.

On the course of this walk my friend found a rock.  She lifted this large rock, no more special than the others nearby, into her arms and cradled it protectively for the next hour.  She held it close to her chest, turning away when others would walk near her.  Only once did she seek me out to have me hold the rock while she carefully leapt her way across the parking lot; an act I suppose she felt to be too dangerous for the rock.

When the walk ended and we began to reflect on our feelings and actions my friend told me that upon seeing the rock she felt the strong urge to protect it.  She felt as though the rock were her baby and she had to shelter it from harm.  To many of our classmates this seemed unusually funny because it seemed so out-of-character for this particular girl to exhibit such gentle and maternal qualities.  She always had an outward appearance of disgust and indignation at having to be amidst our classmates.  Her hardened attitude kept many people at a distance.  However, knowing her as I did, her need to mother and shelter a rock seemed appropriate.  Some of us in her close circle used to refer to her as our mamma bear.  She was always aloof in her affection towards us, but aggressive in her defense of us.

So while walking home after seeing a rock this memory flooded to the forefront of my thoughts.  In just a brief moment I could recall the bright day; the image of my friend, worry on her face, as she gingerly carried this large rock in her arms; the timidness with which she admitted to me, back inside, about her feelings.  After this memory came back to me the fondness the rock inspired in me was connected to my friend, whom I always found endearing when she acted on such heartfelt impulses.