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The Stupid Rock Which Changed Course of Everything
Where do sacred moments come from?
A while back I was out at a birthday party of a friend at a new watering hole in town having a grand ole’ time when I was reminded that I had a rock for a pillow.
Not literally, because going out to a bar and using a rock to sleep on is what we call vagrancy, and generally frowned upon by waitstaff. Also, nobody does that unless you get lost in the woods on a camping trip in Yosemite gone awry because your buddy decided to get a selfie with a couple of cubs and you had to ditch your packs to outrun Mama.
We had been there for a few hours kicking back drinks, making fast friends with strangers, and having a night to remember. The dimmed lights cast soft shadows on the patio where we ate up farm several tables, swapping seats periodically to get another round or share stories with someone across the way. The music was so on point that night it made you want to get up and start dancing in the courtyard where the lounge seating was — the kind of beat which makes you bob your head and inside go yes, this is the JAM!
It was whimsical and fraught with laughter, and yet, in the middle of this beautiful evening unfolding around us, my particular seat was abysmal. After sitting on this rigid edge where two tables met, knees jammed into…