11/ Worry Stone
A couple of weeks
ago, walking on the beach, enjoying the undoubted benefits of the salty air and
de-stressing rhythm of the surf, I picked up a pebble. It was flatish and
viewed from one angle had the rough shape of a heart. But what caught my attention in particular was the hole
passing through its centre. A
pierced heart of stone.
Some days later, coincidentally
at the back of a New Scientist
magazine I came across The hole story. This mighty feat of chewing through
solid rock is achieved by a tiny creature that has been given the insulting,
schoolyard nickname of a piddock.
-
Oy! Piddock!
This miniscule
and resolute bivalve mollusc burrows its way forward making a tunnel that
widens progressively as it grows.
It has no reverse, nor any
intention of turning back, as far as can be judged. In any case its egress would be possible only as a result of
the surging and receding waves, the swirling action of the currents, shearing off the weakened chunk of
rock in which it thrives.
Glimpsing
something of its history has added to this pebble’s appeal for me. At first I was attracted by the cool
and comforting contours of sea-smoothed limestone. The puzzling imperfection of
its central hole. A worry bead to fit snugly in my fist. But now, too, I admire
the simple, unwavering, determination of the life form that produced it. The certainty of its purpose.
Immunity to stress.
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| © Benóg Brady Bates |
