October 22, 2025

Sometimes, like a wet stone, etched and sanded smooth by water, I am tested and challenged so my life can flow again.

Some things in life can hurt, and I’ve come to accept that. Like a punch to the gut, losing someone precious, swallowing harsh realities, and realizing that the world at large has its own changes, too. 

So, I pile my river stones high on this river bank, looking out toward the reflecting water, a blurry, wet portrait of the sky.  

I make piles of smoothed, wet river stones and leave them be. I trek forward in my toe-shaped hiking shoes, leaving behind footprints much larger than my own. The tall, wheat-colored grass lining the trail brushes against me, reminding me I am never alone. The beating heart of Gaia also beats in my chest. 

I remember I am one and the same— a molecule, a cell, a body of water, a plant, a cloud. If everything were separate, I wouldn’t be so connected to the rhythm of the natural world.

I wouldn’t need to dream of trees while sitting alone in my office during lunch.

I wouldn’t need a pack of dogs to remind me that I’m human and loved.

I wouldn’t need the precious, crisp autumn air filling my lungs, reminding me to appreciate the freshness of change and the novelty of new leaves growing on long, outstretched branches.

The trees surround me and remind me I have nothing to fear.

“Pile your stones high,” they seem to say, “leave them like your memories; they are but a thing of the past. And what is right in front of you is your unpaved, uncharted journey.” I walk past the redwoods, arching my neck toward the sky to see the tops of them like a webbed canopy of deep green, sheltering many chirping birds scattered throughout the forest. There is no greater feeling than watching the light rise past the towering giants and drift through them to the sky; they are sun rays seemingly caged but somehow free from restraint, rising up and out without struggle. My first vision on my long journey, I realize. This is what I am meant to see—a new outlook to propel me back into flow.

“Keep going,” the trees whisper, “an adventure awaits past all that has been left behind.” 

It is easy, I realize, to move forward once again with the knowledge that I can soar above any memory dragging me down. I can change my state and fly. If I am not meant to stay on land, I will take to the sky.

Until next time—stay curious, stay steady,

Nicole Asbjorn