The silent challenge stared up at me from the page. I had a quiet house to myself, so decided to give it a try. Its cost? Tears. Sobbing, wrenching tears that gave me a headache. Its reward? Priceless.
The idea came from a book called, Everybody Needs to Forgive Somebody by Allen R. Hunt. The end of chapter 5 contained this meditation suggestion:
Visualize your deepest hurts and resentments. These resentments may include people who have hurt you, those who have betrayed you, and those who have injured people you love. Envision each hurt as a rock, a time when you were stung by someone’s unkind words or harmful actions, and in your mind’s eye, slowly place that rock in a bag. Repeat this as often as needed to gather all the hurts and resentments you are carrying within you. Some may be large rocks, big wounds, while others may be smaller pebbles that you still seem to cling to.
In your imagination, place that bag of rocks in the trunk of your car. Get in the car and drive to a nearby lake. See yourself getting out of the car. Now remove the large bag of rocks, lift it over your shoulder, and throw it into the lake. Watch as the bag plunges into the lake and disappears from sight. Feel the release that comes from knowing that those hurts, grudges, and resentments you were carrying are now making their way down to the bottom of the lake.
Get back into your car. Drive away. The weight is gone. The rocks no longer travel with you. You need no longer carry them in your mind or in your soul.
You have left them there, permanently. They are gone.
It sounded easy enough. I closed my eyes and began visualizing people in my family, starting with my grandparents’ generation, then my generation, down to my own children and spouse. Then in-laws, friends, and co-workers. The friends of my children, their teachers, principals, and babysitters. Even strangers from public encounters.
The faces kept coming. Each one morphed into a rock. Some were pebble-sized, and a few boulders, but mostly average smooth stones that fit in my hand. Then, the biggest one of all: myself.
I wanted to quickly hoist the big “me rock” into the bag, but something made me take a closer look. It was cold gray-like cement, with flecks of black. Rust-colored wavy lines ran through it. Some were almost blood red. It felt bumpy and sharp as I gingerly touched it. Then, wrestled it into the bag with the others.
Miraculously they all fit in one enormous bag. But I couldn’t lift it. In my vision, I asked my son, a weight-lifter, for help. We struggled to the car with it, my end scraping the driveway. He joked, “What’s in here? A body?”
I smiled and replied, “Rocks.”
He accepted that simple explanation, and asked if I wanted him to go along. I hugged him with gratitude and replied, “No. This is something I need to do alone.”
As I drove away, I glanced in the rear-view mirror. He stood in the yard watching me. Probably thinking his mom had lost her mind. How would a woman in her 50s, and in poor health, unload that alone?
The drive to the lake seemed to take forever. Here in the Midwest, corn fields outnumber lakes. I parked the car a safe distance from the water. The only way to do this alone would be one armful at a time. This would take a while.
I began with the one on top, the biggest one, scraping my bare forearms as I lugged it to the water’s edge. I couldn’t throw it far enough to get fully submerged, so within my vision I imagined a wooden dock. I dropped the “me rock” on it and rolled it to the end. Then pushed it off and enjoyed the cool splash.
After that, all the other rocks seemed easy. I chucked the little ones far, listened for the “plop,” and watched their ripples. Even the few smooth boulders rolled easily down the dock and off the end, sinking into the deep, clear water. I could see them all down there. Minnows darted around them like rats through a maze. I sighed and trudged back to the car.
I collapsed behind the wheel, too tired to drive. Tears of relief and exhaustion spilled over. I cried until I felt as empty as the bag. Then I slept. In my imagined sleep I had a dream:
I dove off the dock and swam above the rocks. The water was swirling in currents around them. Washing them. Smoothing them. Polishing them, and revealing… beautiful colors!
I watched in amazement and dove to touch one. I picked it up and swam to the surface to see it in daylight. But in my hand, out of the water, it returned to the plain rock it had been. In surprise, I dropped it back into the water. It sank quickly, changing, as it descended, into beautiful colors again.
I swam around looking for the “me rock” and spotted it near a leg of the dock. It had changed dramatically from gray, black, and rusty-red to all my favorite colors: blue, green and purple. I wouldn’t have recognized it except for its size and the pattern of its wavy lines.
It glowed softly, like a beacon, as I dove down to touch it. So smooth, like a polished gemstone. I stayed there stroking it for as long as my held breath allowed. Then, with a kick, rose to the surface and swam for shore.
I “awoke” with a start. I sat blinking and rubbing my eyes for a few moments, and realized I was still in the imagined car. I stretched, started the car, and headed for home. The road before me blurred and faded.
I opened my eyes and was back at the kitchen table, sobbing. I sat for a long time, amazed at the scene that had unfolded in my mind’s eye. I pondered the meaning of that vivid swimming dream. I wished it would last. I wanted to see the beauty in rocks, in people, even when they’re out of the water. Then it hit me, my physical eyes could not, but my mind’s eye still could! I could envision the beauty in people by throwing rocks into the lake whenever someone hurt me.
Excited at this revelation, I shared the vision with my prayer partners. One commented, “You need to post a No Fishing sign.” So now an imaginary sign stands beside the imaginary dock at the lake and as a real note taped to my bathroom mirror. It’s a gentle, daily reminder to leave past hurts in the water, and to keep envisioning people’s beauty.
