A Stone by Any Other Name

The second day of the morning’s group session at the Callanish cancer retreat included a grief ritual. The intent was to release feelings of loss that may have been bottled up, through a symbolic ceremony.

In the centre of our circle was a table with a pile of stones, carefully picked up from the beaches of Haida Gwaii, with the permission of the elders. We were instructed to choose stones from the collection, think about loved ones we had lost, and inscribe their names on the rocks.

I picked up just one stone, the smallest I could find, to stand for the infinitely small, insignificant grain of dust I represent in the grand scheme of things. On one side I wrote self. There wasn’t enough space on the other side for a long word, so I wrote not. I’m not myself, and I’m grieving for the loss of the self that is to come.

I had time left, so I started making little animals out of rocks.

The ritual ended by laying down the stones in a bowl of water and covering it with petals.