Welcome to Balanced Rocks: Pictures and Stories

Beginning March 16,2010, I began a journey of balancing rocks. I hold to the practice of setting to balance at least five sculptures a day, sometimes, many more. Of these I take lots of pictures and videos. While conducting this adventure, I have been introduced to an incredible unfolding story. Additionally, I discovered this phenomenon is manifesting worldwide. As I post pictures and stories, I found many others similarly engaged and sharing their works. Additionally, as folks come upon me performing my work, many want to find out how this is done and try themselves. This blog shares this work in both pictures and stories. Enjoy


A seeming impossibility becomes possible

Rock Balancing: The Beginning

On a fine summer day, sometime in August, 2009, I was visiting family in Toronto. Like most folks spending summer in a large city, we used up as much time as we could finding outdoor events that would cool us. One afternoon, we headed to the Beaches section of East Toronto. After spending some time playing in a large sandbox in the shade with my grandkids and some of their newfound companions, we headed to the Boardwalk that extends from Balmy Beach to Kew Gardens. Ella accompanied me, Liam took off with his mom, Natalie. They ventured down the boardwalk, Ella and I headed onto the sand toward the water’s edge. Halfway there we encountered what looked like a small size Stonehenge.

About a dozen sculptures were gathered together in a rough circle. Each was a stack of two or three rocks balanced one on another. The tallest one was slightly taller than Ella, who was small average height for a five year older. All were in the neighborhood of three feet and four feet tall. What immediately jumped out was the precarious nature of the balancing. Most points of contact were miraculously slight. Most seemed to be standing on a point. Two more folks were witnessing this amazing display. We imagined that there must be small metal rods embedded at the point of contact, or else some kind of glue was used. Each of us peered from close low angles to detect what could account for this mystical display. Ella, not being so cautious, toppled one structure over. Luckily, it did not land on her.

I hurried over and picked up the fallen rock. I saw no evidence of a rod or glue. It indeed had been balanced on its pedestal. I lifted it up and tried to place it back where I reckoned it had been balanced. I cautioned Ella, to be careful and not upset any more sculptures and went about the task of finding balance. I was not successful and struggled immensely but did not find the magic spot where stability could be achieved. After a lengthy effort, an attractive Asian woman about my age approached and gently nudged me aside offering to demonstrate her work. She pointed to the spot she would set the stone upon. She called it by a foreign name. To me it looked like a slight dimple.

Placing the small end of the upper rock into that hollow, she deftly and quickly moved it around, slightly twisting and cajoling it into position. The sight of this slender woman with longish graying hair performing an intricate dance with a rock slightly larger than her head emanated calmness. It seemed only the ends of her fingers were used to achieve these small movements. Apparently, equilibrium was close. Shortly she was done and withdrew her palms which naturally assumed an open prayer posture. The rock I had grappled with was majestically resting in its previous stable state. She next went over and reset two other structures, I had not noticed were also amiss. I just took them to be part of the rubble strewn about the beach. Now all the display was standing and providing a small sense of order in our chaotic world.

I never got this woman’s name, but heard her story. She had set this display up for the purpose of taking pictures, one of which she hoped to use for a cover of a book she was publishing. Unfortunately not getting her name makes it difficult to find her book. But I carried away with me the sight of her presentation and the incredible feeling I had witnessed an amazing ethereal event. I also felt an urge to explore this practice.

Rock in the Snow

Rock in the Snow
January in Toronto

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

History Repeats, April. 1975: Toronto, ON

As we approached the bridge going over the Detroit River to Windsor Ontario, I felt a tinge of anxiety crossing an international border walking. It seemed customary to either have a vehicle or use public transportation. I had witnessed folks being turned away based solely their appearance and lack of suitable funds. I was not sure about our qualifications on these counts. Before my fears could materialize, a small pickup pulled over to offer us a ride across the bridge. The driver was a bonded hauler who spent his days transporting shipping containers back and forth across the boundary. He must have picked up on my anxiety since he immediately offered that riding with him, thru the shipping customs point, would subject us to only a cursory examination. He was correct, since the Customs Official only asked were we bringing any contraband with us. Immediately, feeling the small pinch of illegal substance lining my pocket, “Of course not,” I lied. We were let on our way.

In Toronto, We separated. Esperanza went to visit an old boyfriend, I to see Liz, an old girlfriend. I arrived at her house and found a package waiting for me. The mushroom tapestry, I had shipped to myself from Adel, GA had arrived before me in good shape. I immediately set the package out and offered some to any takers. Alan and Wayne stepped forward and gratefully snatched a handful. After ingesting a few and, despite my warnings, downed them with beer. Within minutes, they decided they needed to drive away. Again, I protested, but to no heed. They got into their work truck and left. No sooner than the remainder of us sat down to breakfast, did Allan and Wayne show up at the front door howling in laughter. They returned without their vehicle. I took a hike to retrieve it.
Down the street at a traffic light, a scene resembling the one I witnessed two days previous repeated. Their truck was patiently waiting at a red light, engine running, doors open and music blaring. This time, there was a small crowd, looking on in a puzzled manner. I explained, “My friends got caught up in the Rapture, and I am getting their truck.” I got away before receiving a response. It turned out this vehicle was one I previously owned and traded away to settle a debt before I beginning my road adventure. Returning to the house, We settled down to spend a day without work responsibilities. I pondered what to do with this load of mushrooms. It seemed to be causing trouble away from its native environment.
I called Esperanza and we agreed to head back to the States in two days. I would quickly have to dispose of my mushroom tapestry that was turning into a burden. Someone had a friend who had a friend who expressed interest in my holdings. Somewhere in the Beaches area, I met that Someone. In a darken well appointed office space we worked a deal. He took my mushrooms, I left with a pocket full of colorful Canadian money, a small hash oil joint and two small microdots. I never felt right about exchanging money for mushrooms. It seemed I was treading on something Sacred. This notion would haunt me and eventually bear sour fruit. I contacted Esperanza and we agreed to leave the next morning.


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Blog Archive

About Me, Part One

My photo
Rock Balancing: The Beginning. What began as a journal of my travels took a hiatus when I began to settle in Ithaca NY. In the meantime, I took up the practice of setting rocks to balance. I returned to my blog to begin recording this story

Part, The second

On Easter Sunday Morning, 2008, I made a decision to settle in the Ithaca New York area. At the same time, I decided to continue to post my blog, However, the stories now will come from the archive stored internally. These will be the stories I gathered while on previous journeys and never entrusted to paper. The date of each posting will not reflect the date of the story being related but will mark the date that narrative got inscribed.

Carry wood

Carry wood
33 years later

Part: The third

I took a brief hiatus from my daily blog writing. I did not know the direction it would take. part of me thought I would abandon it. It turns out I missed it. The old title "On the Road Again' is no longer apt. It appears I am settling. The travel stories will age to a point, when I will probably resusitiate them and do something with them. I dusted off some old stories and begin this new series.
Thr first is one was written two years ago. I edited it and begin again a series that is more apropos to someone settling in upper New York State. They are meant to warm, amuse, educate and sometimes inflame.