Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…

Tag Archives: rocks


by Leave a comment

To dare the sand.

I have a rock in my shoe almost daily. Are my shoes too wide? My socks too low? Am I walking too fast? It makes more sense when I’m on the gravel path at home, but even when I’m going to the fitness room in the hotel? I have to laugh about it now, because it’s simply part of my routine, to shake out each sock, to give each shoe a couple extra bumps. 

Near the beach in Santa Monica yesterday, it made sense that I would pick up a little sand in my slip on mules. (Certainly not beachwear, but perfect for the restaurant on the pier.) (Sand is really only small rocks with a good reputation.) So, as I always do with sand, I gave my feet a little brush and allowed myself to travel back in time. Back to the first day at the beach each summer (spring really) in Minnesota. Oh, how we longed for summer. And wasn’t it wonderful to ache for it? To dare the sand just a little too early. To let it wriggle between our winter white toes and dare us towards the water. It seemed to be an exfoliant of all our winter woes, our schoolyard scuffles. It was the opposite of bundling — a release into the warmth of possibility! 

I suppose it’s all about perspective. When I think about where sand can take me, why would I ever worry about a pebble?

I am laced and ready for whatever the day may bring.

Shop Now!


by 1 Comment

The wisdom of gravel.

“If you know wilderness in the way you know love, you would be unwilling to let it go.” Terry Tempest Williams

Maybe it was because one of my after school Thursday chores was dusting. Or that my tennis shoes were never white. That winter’s snowballs often contained bruising tiny pebbles. Or that my mom’s car forever needed washing. There were many reasons to dislike the gravel of Van Dyke road. I felt unmodern. Somehow behind. I had a sense of urgency to catch up. To go beyond. And certainly the graveled pace of this childhood road was only slowing me down.

I chased the pavement. Off to school. Jobs. Apartments. Books and art. Creation. Life. Smooth beneath, it all went so fast. My bike. My car. Even my shoes clicked along at a feverish pace. 

A country away, I hear it again, the slow crunch of gravel beneath my feet as I walk my daily route. My feet found their way back to the wilderness they ran from. Tiny pebbles say, “but you were hurt there.” Yes, I whisper. Massive rocks that line hills and turn into mountains say, “But you were loved there.” “Yes!” I shout. 

I have paid and paved my way in dust. Love walks with me. Slowing me down? Enough to see, I think. To feel. And I will never let it go.

Shop Now!


by Leave a comment

Another rock on the trailer.

I have told the story before — picking rocks in the field with my grandfather on his farm, but sometimes, I, maybe we, need to hear it again, and again. The following is an excerpt from “Something will grow from all this”:

“Each rock seemed to give birth to another. I was so tired. But Grandpa didn’t seem to be. He just kept picking those rocks, one after the other. He seemed to get stronger. There was precision in each movement. I watched carefully. It was like an oil pump that didn’t have a beginning or an end to its motion, but just kept going. I had been throwing the rocks with anger, but he moved them with purpose…and that was the difference. That’s how he could take such a mess and later make something grow out of it. The black that surrounded us would turn to green and gold. It amazed me and I wanted to be a part of it. It was hard, but that was ok. I did want to stay. My lip stopped quivering and I placed another rock on the trailer.”

There are so many challenges. It’s easy to get angry. And that’s ok if it thrusts us into doing the work, but that’s where we always need to get to – the place of doing the work. I have thrown my share of rocks with anger, but I want to move them now – move them with purpose. Make a difference. Make something grow. Just like my grandfather. 

The sun is coming up. It is not the beginning, it is not the end, it is the time to do the glorious and sometimes unglamorous work. I give thanks for the opportunity, smile, and place another rock on the trailer.