Fog Remnant Stone
I am compelled by stones. I find them in fields, along river banks, on mountain slopes, and in ocean waters—or, in rare but amazing cases, from the sky. They are everywhere. Occasionally, I find one so magnificent I capture it and take it home so we can inhabit a space together. We try to teach each other our languages. Then I build stands for these stones, set them up on my dining room table, place them next to plants in my garden, and on the mantel above the fireplace. Sometimes I cut into them to reveal something essential about them. By living with them, I learn their stories, and I have a strong sense that they draw language to themselves.
The Fog Remnant Stone formed the focus of a long essay titled “Nepholithos: Reveries Involving the Inversion of Cloud and Stone. The first paragraph of that essay reads:
"There are occasions, if we are open to them, when we encounter a stone capable of inducing a profound and blissful reverie. In such an encounter, our imagination envelopes the stone, or perhaps the stone lodges itself in our psyche. Stones inhabit our dreams and imagination in a manner quite different from how they inhabit the earth. Their agency shifts: fundamental properties of gravity, weight, stability, durability, translucency, and heat are often completely and delightfully overturned. And a wealth of associations leads to exceptionally diverse trajectories and considerations. For instance, some rocks reveal potent microcosms of other landscapes, while others disclose some zoomorphic fantasy; some become familiar acquaintances and confidants, and others transform our notions of continuity or shift our perception of time. Because stones live so much more slowly than we do, we can generally return to them again and again with only ourselves seeming to have changed. Thus, they become a means of measure for our own spirit. And so it is that a stone—an inert and solid stone—leads us to contemplate transformation and the ephemeral."
You can read the entirety of that essay here.