There is more to stacking stones than meets the eye. It’s not just a Buddhist tradition, devoid of any significance other than that of ritual. Anyone can learn from the practice of stacking stones granted they have an open, attentive, and inquisitive mind.
For those who are new to stacking stones, below is some guidance on how to do it and some reflection on why to do it:
First, you must find some stones.
This sounds mundane, but it can be a profound lesson in the depth of reality. When was the last time you really looked at a stone, seeing it as an individual object, unique in so many ways? And how did it become that way? How did it become that color? What forces made it this exact shape before you? Or maybe it was born like this? But where do stones come from? How old can it be? How do you even measure the lifespan of a stone?
Once you begin to perceive the uniqueness (and wonderful mystery) of stones, you must contemplate what makes a stone ‘good’? Which stones should you choose?
Your eyes will naturally be drawn to some stone stones over others, but interestingly, it’s hard to say why this happens with much precision. That’s because this type of natural beauty stems from the realm of feeling and our thinking mind–wonderful as it is–lacks the ability to not only fully describe, but more fundamentally, fully experience the sensation of feeling. It is less akin to speaking a foreign language and more like a deaf person experiencing music through the physical vibration of the floor.
We can think thoughts about our feelings and come up with words to remind us of the feeling, but words are, at best, a shallow substitute for an experience far deeper, far wider, and far stranger.
Accept the inadequacy of words in describing your experience to yourself and others. Acknowledge the endless depth of reality and the present moment. Appreciate your innate capacity to recognize beauty and goodness.
Next, you stack the stones.
Be forewarned: this step often involves nearly as much falling as stacking.
During this step, the nature of each stone transforms. It is no longer about stones as individual objects, but as part of a whole. In this exercise, a stone is of no value if it cannot support the weight of another stone. An individual stone’s beauty also becomes meaningless if it does not complement the other stones. If you tasked ten people with bringing you the most beautiful stone they could find, the resulting stack of stones would pale in beauty–and likely stability–compared to ten stones chosen by one person with an eye for the bigger picture.
The same holds true for the people in our lives. It behooves us to surround ourselves with those who highlight our strength and mitigate our weakness.
However, human beings are not stones. Our nature is not so obstinate. We can enhance existing virtues and cultivate new ones. We can also lessen or eliminate our vices. Sometimes we can make some progress alone, but often the support of others is required for meaningful and lasting change. The importance of those around you relates not just to the present moment, but also all the moments yet to come.
Then you wait for the stones to fall.
For how long, who can say?
Certainly you have some influence on the longevity of your stack of stones. How skillfully you selected and balanced the stones matters. How precarious a design you pursued matters as well.
However, this is not fully under your control. Things fall apart. A strong wind could cause your tower to fall. Rain or the accumulation of snow could upset the delicate balance. A creature–human or otherwise–could knock it over.
Waiting is often seen as a inconvenience, but, with sufficient curiosity, waiting can also be a source of pleasure. Waiting, in this context, creates a closer intimacy with nature and time. Will this storm be the one to do it? How strong of a wind is needed? How often does that happen? If it lasts until winter, how much snow will it take?
And then you stack the stones again.
The most important consideration when designing your stack of stones is how willing you are to pick them up when they fall. If you are prepared to pick them up often, then you may pursue more precarious designs. If you want to do this only once, then you should prioritize stability.
There is some tension between evanescence and beauty; often the more fleeting we know something to be, the more we appreciate it. Like the last bite of food, time spent with a friend before they move, or even a job we hate after we give our 2 week’s notice.
However, there can also be beauty–and wisdom–in stability. Like the orienting presence of a mountain off in the distance, the spotless punctuality of the sun, a family heirloom, a commitment ’till death to us part.
Stability can be just as beautiful as adventure. Choose what is right for you, right now–and switch it up when it is no longer right.
And when you are ready for another adventure, embrace it with the radical fearlessness of Andrea Gibson:
…I don’t want to get out
–Royal Heart by Andrea Gibson
without a broken heart.
I intend to leave this life
so shattered
there better be a thousand separate heavens
for all of my separate parts…
Closing thoughts
I confess that you may not learn all this from stacking stones; I know I did not…
These lessons are based on my personal experiences and already existed to some extent within me.
Ultimately, your stack of stones will (hopefully) be a lodestone for the unique wisdom within you. I’d love to hear what emerges.
Be well and enjoy a few pictures
