Details of the Gemstone

Once, not too long ago, I was lucky enough to hold a very large gemstone in my hands. It had hundreds of little shiny facets all over it. A “perfect cut,” it sparkled and shone and danced the light off of the very walls. And even though it was a little heavier than I thought it would be, it felt wonderful in my hands. I thought it was the one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen in my life.

I loved to slowly turn it around and around at my fingertips. As I turned it round, I loved to watch it sparkle and glitter. Every once and a while, I would hold it up to the light and look through it and see all the different ways to look at the world, all the different angles, and all the different perspectives that the gemstone let me see.

Almost as if I were in a dream, one of the refractions struck my eye and revealed itself to be a living light. The light that shone into my eyes was alive. That one ideal glimpse started as an innocuous glance, but as I slowly turned the gemstone in my hand, it quickly opened itself up to me and revealed itself as an insight into the nature of the universe.

How it shone in my eyes! And how I reveled in it! As that angle passed by in my eyes, I could see the whole of the everything of it all, whatever once was, all that is, and whatever might be. I saw time. I saw water flowing. I saw stars and dust and molecules. I saw cycles and dreams. In that split second that passing light that revealed itself to me through that rare, beautiful gem, I saw birth, life, and all passing, all in its single magical facet.

And then, in that passing, it was gone.

Just gone.

So I put the gemstone back down where I found it, back in the place it was before.

I still know where that gemstone is. I see it all the time. It’s right next to me. I look at the gemstone nearly every day. Sometimes I see it accidentally, and that really surprises me. Sometimes I purposefully go and look at it because it brings such fond memories. I catch myself wanting to pick it up again and hold it in my hands and turn it around to see if I can catch my glimpse again. But I don’t do that. And I still mull over my reasons why I don’t.

the kids