The Rocks in the Bowl

“The secret of happiness is to count your blessings while others are adding up their troubles.” ~ Author unknown


A couple of weeks ago I read an article about a lady who keeps two bowls of river rocks on her fireplace mantel, one filled with white rocks, and one filled with darker rocks. Every time something positive happens in her day, she switches one of the dark rocks with a white one to symbolize the positive occurrence, and each time something bad happens she takes the stone out and puts it back in its original bowl.

Quite intrigued with her idea, I also filled two bowls with rocks – twenty-eight in each container to symbolize a full lunar month – and since I didn’t have any white and dark ones, I used smooth rocks and jagged pebbles. My plan was to see how many of each type I would have in the bowl after one month.

The past two weeks have been uneventful for the most part, without particularly positive or negative events – a limbo of energies – but I still managed to move rocks in response to smaller events that normally would not have caught my attention. Then, as if Universe had finally awakened from slumber and decided it was time to light a little fire under the pot to make the water boil, a string of wonderful things came to pass yesterday, and I happily switched five of the jagged rocks with smooth ones.

Last night, after everyone went to bed, I stood in front of the mantel, and I looked at the two bowls of rocks; after two weeks, even after taking some out, I have successfully switched fifteen rocks! That means that on average, even including the days when nothing particularly good happened or something unpleasant came to pass, I had witnessed at least one positive thing for each day that had passed.

By all means, they weren’t all amazing events, and some of them were in fact small victories, but what seemed important was that I never would have noticed those subtle happy moments if it hadn’t been for the fact that everything else felt ‘stuck’. Just like one doesn’t notice a warm, sunny day during the summer when the warm, sunny days are a dime a dozen, but instantly feels transported to a heavenly place if such a day occurs in the midst of a colder, rainy season, sometimes we need to slow down and feel we are traveling on low gear to notice the smaller blessings.

My mom used to always tell me and my sister that it can’t be Christmas every day, and in a way I am glad it isn’t, for this way I don’t get to bypass the small joys. And the rocks in the bowl are getting smoother with each passing day.

The Gift Box

Walking through the mall around Christmas time is an experience in itself. The air is impregnated with a fusion of warming aromas, and people look like a colony of ants, walking in and out of shops and carrying loads greater than their body weight. In the midst of all this, the main attraction is Santa, the magical old fellow dressed in red, surrounded by a mob of excited children and a line of weary moms, relieved that their little darlings’ outfits are still perfect for the picture with the good elf.

But what stands out most are the decorations; lots of them, bright and cheerful, crafty and classy, displayed along the hallways and inside overcrowded stores. In the window of one of these shops I saw something which caught my wandering eye: An array of beautifully wrapped gift boxes, stacked neatly for all to see, their sparkling wrapping paper glimmering in the bright spotlights beside a layout of expensive accessories.

Growing up with a mother who owned a retail store, I’m all too familiar with the grandiosity of Christmas decorations to attract business; after all, who would not be enticed by a gorgeous gift box, wrapped in gold paper and skillfully adorned with an exquisite velvet bow? To the exhausted eye of the tired Christmas shopper it’s a mirage of sorts.

As a child, I was in love with boxes such as those. They always had a special power over me; something looking that pretty had to contain an amazing gift. One day, curiosity had the best of me, and I sneaked out one of the beautiful “gifts”, eager to finally discover what incredible surprise was guarded within the refined packaging. I gently removed the ribbon with trembling hands – in part, probably, out of fear that my mother was going to catch me – and prepared to pull the tape which kept the beautiful paper tightly folded against the hard box. When I removed the paper and found a simple cardboard box I was slightly disappointed, but nothing had prepared me for the shuttering surprise once I finally lifted the lid: There was nothing in the box but tissue paper! Was this what I had risked getting in trouble for? I didn’t know whether to feel angry or upset; my beautiful gift, the one I had dreamt upon - and built castles in the air over - was nothing but an empty box.

As childish as that experience was, it taught me something very important that day: a gift can never be judged by the packaging it is wrapped in. Growing up, I realized the same applies to people.

Some of the most amazing people we meet don’t come in pretty packages; they may look or act rough; they may be someone we can’t imagine associating with; yet, they may yield a wonderful gift. The content of what they offer is precious, but it is presented humbly as they have no need to impress anybody, or blind anyone with artificial luster. The gift will stand for itself.