What Waits Within

Amy Frank
6 days ago
2 min read

When I was at the beach yesterday, I found this “stone”. I couldn’t figure out if it were actually a stone, however, so last night as I lay in bed winding down, I began researching it. I believe it’s terracotta.

Terracotta is a clay, so originally it would have come from the earth and then a human would have collected it, shaped it, and fired it. Terracotta, which is Italian for “baked earth” can be fired at a relatively low temperature compared to other ceramics.

Historically, terracotta has been used in pottery as well as in pipes, amongst many other uses (and it still is). It can end up on beaches, worn by the tides, just like sea glass.

Generally, I don’t take rocks home from the beach (or anywhere). It’s rare that I feel comfortable removing nature from nature. I had an illuminating experience when I was in my early 20’s while visiting Prince Edward Island in Canada. I had wanted to take home a small bag of the soil. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Prince Edward Island, it’s known for its naturally rich red soil. At that time, I was still in what modern medicine called ‘psychosis’. In my youth and all throughout my 20’s (and even into my 30’s), the psychoses I experienced were terrifying. From a young age I felt as if ghosts and demons were haunting me. I can’t remember what happened exactly but something terrifying did. I knew in that moment that the soil was not mine to remove or keep. I went back outside and emptied the small bag I had collected, returning it to the earth from which I had taken it.

Yesterday, I questioned if it was okay for me to take this “stone” home with me. Intuitively, I felt it was, so with reverence I tucked it into my pack before I set off.

I found it at Gyro beach. It caught my eye as I wandered alone doing photography. The group I was with was close-by. Its reddish hue and triangular shape stood out. As I leaned down and picked it up, I found it strangely reminiscent of a heart—as if there were a heart concealed within it, just waiting for the right hands to chisel it out, revealing it.

As I lay in bed last night, learning a bit more about terracotta as well as about the history of the area, including the indigenous peoples who lived there long before the colonists arrived, the dreamcatcher I have above my bed began to shake. There was no wind, no breeze, nothing was touching it. My spine shivered and shimmered in the dark room illuminated only by the gentle lamp light, but this time I wasn’t afraid. This time, I felt blessed.