This Diary Series has kindly been contributed by Clare.
Diary: 1st June 2018
Problem: The last time I went to church I was six years old and I told the priest at that I wouldn’t be getting Confirmed because I “just didn’t buy it”. Bold move.
While I respect six-year-old me’s decision, I have to admit to feeling a little ~spiritually adrift~ ever since.
I’m known to wander the halls of my uni and whisper questions like “Why am I here?”, “What’s going to happen in the end?” and “Why does my Mum send me selfies every Wednesday? Why doesn’t she ever smile in said selfies? Is she trying to say something? Is she being held hostage? Only on Wednesdays?”. General existential queries.
Attempted solution: I followed my gut and bought a piece of quartz from a store that felt and smelt like the inside of a bong made out of a move milk bottle.
Aaaaannnd….I had no idea what to do with it or how it would connect me to my spirituality, so I did what any self-respecting seeker-of-the-light would do. I googled the phrase “How do I use this piece of quartz to feel more like Yoda but with Gwyneth Paltrow’s skin?”. And boy, oh boy, did the internet respond.
A variety of big-haired women bloggers, whose names were smash ups of stones, flowers and planets, gave me a course of action:
- Infuse my stone with my hopes and dreams. Hold it over the relevant chakra and, using visualization, somehow drive all the feelings I want for myself into this quartz.
- Charge my stone. Put it out in the light of the full moon. Duh, science.
- Carry my stone with me when I need it, or hold it in meditation.
All in all, I found this to be bullshit.
It was very pleasant bullshit, however.
Holding the stone while I meditated or feeling it in my pocket while I was howdly-doodling around reminded me of the goals I made when the internet told me to.
Also, a couple of times when I saw friends looking down-and-out I gave them the crystal to hold.
Verdict: I look like an idiot when I pull the piece of quartz out of my pocket. And it still smells like an amateur bong. Better than a profesh bong, I suppose? I don’t know.
Other than that, though, I feel pretty good. Not necessarily any more organised, but just a little fuzzy and warm ‘round the edges. If that’s what spirituality feels like, I’m all for it.