Today I had a conversation with a stone. It was only a small pebble, one of thousands embedded in the exposed aggregate patio surrounding the swimming pool at my apartment building.

I encountered this stone while lying on a beach towel on a chaise lounge by the pool, working on my pitiful tan. It was an ordinary stone, nothing special about it, a piece of smooth gray rock about 3/4" long and 1/2" wide. But just after I turned from my back over onto my stomach, it spoke to me.

"Hello," was the first thing it said. Nothing terribly profound in that.

"Hello," I replied brilliantly. "Why are you speaking to me?"

"You have a certain look in your eyes, something that tells me you might be interested in my story." (It occurs to me now that that is a pretty good pick-up line, one I would probably try if I was the type to use pick-up lines).

"What sort of a story could a stone have to tell?" I asked.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. You might think I'm just an ordinary stone, sitting here in the middle of an unremarkable patio at an average apartment complex in a typical big American city."

The stone paused, apparently waiting for me to respond. So I did. "Well, to begin with, ordinary stones don't speak, at least not to people. Or if they do, the people usually get put away somewhere."

“You’re right, of course, ordinary stones don’t speak. And, as I'm sure you've figured out by now, I'm not actually speaking. You only think I'm speaking. It's sort of like the power of suggestion."

"What, you mean I'm being hypnotized by a rock?"

"No, silly, you're the one who's making me speak. What I'm saying is actually coming from within you. Now, are you gonna shut up and let me tell you my story?"

"Oh ... okay."

"As I was saying, you might think I'm just an ordinary stone, sitting here in the middle of an unremarkable patio at an average apartment complex in a typical big American city. And, in fact, that is true. I am just an ordinary stone. That's part of the story. All these stones you see here around me are pretty much the same. Sure, we have different shapes and sizes and different colors and some of us are tougher on the outside than others, but we're all still stones. There's nothing really exceptional about any of us, and yet we're all special in the most remarkable ways."

It paused again. "Please, go on," I said.

"To begin with, did you know that you and I have much in common?"

"We do?"

"Yes, we do. For one thing, we are composed of many of the same elements. Your body is loaded with carbon, and so am I. You contain iron and zinc and magnesium and oxygen, and I contain many of those elements too. Obviously, you are an organic creature and in my present state, I am what is known as inert or inorganic, but that's just what we see at the present moment. There are other apparent differences too. Despite what you may believe you are experiencing now, I can't actually think or speak like you can. I'm not alive, at least not in a biological sense, and I'm certainly not sentient."

"Then why are you speaking to me? What's the point?"

"Hold on, I'll get to it. But first let's back up a little bit. How long ago were you born?"

"Um, about 40 years ago." (For a moment, I considered lying about my age. To a rock. Isn't human vanity amazing?)

"Do you know where I was 40 years ago?" the stone continued.

"No, I don't have any idea."

"This apartment complex wasn't here then, you know. I've only been in this patio for about 20 years. Before that, I was in a stone yard at a quarry for about six months. And before that, I spent a long time rolling around in the bottom of a river. For centuries before you were born, I was spending decade after decade under water. Over the years, there were a few times when I was exposed to the dry air, but those times were rare and brief. Basically, I've been a river dweller since back around the time of Christopher Columbus."

"You're kidding! You've been around that long?"

"Sure. Where do you think stones come from? Do you think we are born and live and die all within the space of just one century like humans?"

"Well no, I guess not," I answered sheepishly.

"That's okay. Most people never stop to think about these things. I must say I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me and listen to my story. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Now let me ask you this. Where do you think I was before I got into the river?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe up on a mountain someplace?"

"That's right. My earliest memories are when I was a much bigger stone way up high in the mountains in what you now call New Mexico. Those were some good times, lying in the summer sun, feeling the plants grow around me and bloom and eventually die, enjoying the noisy excitement of the big thunder storms and the gentle, comforting weight of snow during all the long winters. "

"You sound like you miss those times."

"I do. It certainly beats lying for centuries on the bottom of a river. On the other hand, I have to admit there were things I enjoyed about the river life too. I think you can always find something to appreciate, no matter where you are. For example, in the river I got to see all sorts of different fish and snakes and other water creatures. Sometimes I saw a bear or a beaver or the paws of a raccoon. Occasionally I even saw people, although usually it was just their feet or their hands. And when the sun was shining on the river, it was really beautiful. Shafts of light glistening through the water, making our world sparkle, if only briefly.

"However, much of the time I spent in the river I wasn't able to see the light, even if the sun was shining. I was often buried under other stones and surrounded by mud or sand. But that's just how it is. You have to take the bad with the good. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, up on the mountain."

"You said you were a bigger stone then?"

"Yes, I was. In fact, I suppose it’s conceivable that some of what you might call my siblings or my cousins are also here on this patio. It's not likely, mind you. There are literally trillions of little stones or pebbles like me. But over the centuries, pieces of me have broken off. It usually occurs in the winter during a freeze. If some water seeps into a crack and then turns to ice and expands -- POP! -- suddenly I'm smaller. Plus when I was in the river I was constantly being worn down and smoothed off by the flow of the water and sand and other pebbles over me. Yes, I used to be much larger. I guess those were my glory days."

"Is that how you were formed?" I asked. "During a freeze in the mountains?"

"Well, yes, at least that's how I came into existence as a separate entity. And that's as far back as I can remember. When I came to, I was lying in the dirt on the side of a mountain next to a huge boulder. In human terms, you could say that boulder was my mother."

"Interesting. But do you know where your mother came from?"

"I do. I know where all my ancestors came from. Would you like to hear about it?"

"Yes, I would, but hold on a minute. I'm getting pretty hot. Let me just cool off in the pool for a minute and I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

"Very funny," said the speaking stone.

I stood up and stretched, then walked to the edge of the small swimming pool. A numeral painted on the side indicated it was only six feet deep. There was a stenciled warning that read "NO DIVING". I dove in.

I swam a few laps and thought about the story the stone was telling me. I enjoyed the feel of the cool water (unheated pool) against my skin. I liked the fresh scent of chlorine and the gentle ache of exertion in my lungs. When I stopped for a rest, I looked up and saw four parallel vapor trails in the sky. High above me, I could barely making out the shapes of four fighter jets streaking through the stratosphere. It was quiet. They were too far away for the sound to reach me. All I could hear was the water lapping at the edge of the pool and a bird singing in the trees. I climbed out of the pool and dried my face and my hair on the beach towel, then replaced the towel on the chaise lounge, put on a shirt to prevent sunburn, and laid back down on the chaise lounge.

"I'm back,” I said.

"So I see," answered the stone. "Did you have a nice swim?"

"Yes, but -- can you really see me?"

"Now what did I tell you earlier? Remember? This is all happening inside your head."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Now, you were going to tell me about your ancestors, right?"

"Sort of. Actually, I'm going to tell you about my ancestors and about your ancestors. They are the same."

"What?!"

"If you go back far enough, it's true. You see, the boulder I came from and others like it were formed deep in the earth. The elements of which they are composed are as old as the earth itself. Actually, even older. You know how the earth was created, right? How this planet and other planets were formed through the aggregation of rocks and dust swirling around our infant sun?"

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with my ancestors?" I asked.

"Come on, you can figure this out. What are you and your ancestors composed of? Where did the atoms and the molecules that make up your body come from?"

"Oh, so you're saying that because my body and all human bodies are made of the same sort of atoms and molecules that are in a stone, that makes us the same?"

"No, we're not the same. Obviously, we're different. But the atoms and molecules that are in you and in me came from the same place."

"You mean from the earth?"

"Yes, both you and me and everything else you see around you are composed of elements that come from the earth. I mean, think about it. Your body is constantly changing, right? Every day, you take in new elements; new atoms and molecules when you inhale, when you eat, and when you drink. Then you discharge other elements when you exhale, when you sweat, when you expel wastes, when you shed dead skin, when some hair falls out --"

"Careful, you're getting into a touchy area there."

"Sorry. Believe me, you look younger than you are," said the stone.

"Thank you."

"The point is, you are not the same being you were when you were born. In fact your body may have already recycled and replaced all of the cells, molecules, and atoms that are in you many times by now."

I thought about that for a moment. Then I said, "But that's not really true with you, is it?"

"No, it's not. Since I am not alive, my constituent atoms and molecules don’t change much, except through erosion when I get smaller. But when that happens, where do the fragments that come from me end up? They become part of the earth, part of the water you might drink, part of the nutrients in the soil which are taken up by plants you might eat, and possibly even part of the air you breathe."

"That's why you said earlier that we have much in common."

"Exactly. But there's even more to it. Because not only are we both composed of elements that are continually recycled by nature, we were also ultimately born in the same place. The earth, as you know, is only about four billion years old. But the universe itself is much older than that, probably around 15 billion years old. The elements that came together to form the earth, the same elements that are now part of us, came from somewhere else. They, and we, were born inside distant ancient stars, eons ago."

"You sure are a smart rock. You sound like Carl Sagan. Are you sure there's not a tiny speaker here somewhere, with a scientist hiding in the bushes speaking into a microphone? Wait a minute -- am I on Candid Camera!?"

"No, you're not on Candid Camera. Actually, you are the smart one. You and your fellow human beings are the ones who have been able to figure all this out. What other creatures can tell you about the history of the universe? You guys have done pretty well, all things considered. Sure, you've messed up the environment a little bit, but you're working on fixing it. And, yes, you keep getting into wars and killing each other, but there are many humans who do great things and even more humans who do small things that mean so much. I really admire you people."

"Uh, thanks, I think. So, do you ever wish you were a person instead of a stone?"

"You still don't get it, do you? Let me put it this way. Where will you be five hundred years from now?"

"I'll be dead, I guess."

"Yes, you will. And I probably won't be on this patio any longer. This patio and this building will almost certainly be long gone by then. But I'll be somewhere. I may be buried in a landfill or I may be smashed up into a thousand pieces, but some portion of me will survive. I may even get chipped out of this patio before it's torn up and become part of some kid's rock collection. That would be a nice life. The point is, I'll still be around, observing the progress of time and history.

"And what about a million years from now? Or a billion years from now? Or a hundred billion years from now? There will come a time when the earth itself no longer exists, a time when those who once named it Earth will no longer remember it, if they even survive. Nothing is really permanent. Not the earth, not the sun, not you or me, and certainly not my brief existence on this little patio. I'll enjoy it while I can, and I'll try to learn something while I'm here. I'll do my job the best way I know how, and when it's over, then I'll go on. And you know what? So will you."

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and frowned, trying hard to understand what the stone -- or whoever -- was saying to me. There was silence.

The stone had stopped speaking. I waited, hoping to hear more. I heard the wind through the trees, I heard water gently lapping in the pool, and in the distance I heard the sound of traffic, but I couldn't hear any speaking. The stone was silent, like stones usually are.

It was up to me to decide what it all means.

I wanted to understand why the stone said, "When it's over, I'll go on, and so will you." I don't believe in life after death, at least not in the traditional sense of disembodied spirits inhabiting some sort of heavenly realm. That couldn't be it. But what was it?

I sat up on the towel. I was hot and probably sunburned. It was time to go in. I'd never intended to spend so much time out there in the sun. I looked at the other stones in the patio. So many of them, so much alike, and yet each a little different from every other.

I looked at the trees, gently swaying in the soft breeze. I looked up at the blue sky, the vapor trails long since vanished.

Then it came to me. Everything the stone kept repeating about the two of us having so much in common and being composed of the same elements and having the same ancestors -- it all finally made sense.

I am the stone. The stone is me. The stone is also you. You are this stone and also every other stone. I am all the stones and all the trees and all the pools and patios and vapor trails. You are all the buildings and all the traffic and all the landfills and all the mountain streams and so am I. We are the sun and the planets, the comets and the galaxies. We are made of interstellar dust. Everything we see around us is part of us.

When our eyes are truly opened, we behold that which we are, and we are that which we behold.

"That's right," said the speaking stone.