Horatio - Stone of Heart & Hope

“’Hope is the thing with feathers”

Before lockdown, all dressed
up and ready to go.
I taught English for 39 years. For most of those years, I had a faithful classroom companion. My pet rock, Horatio. He became a legend. If you ask him for his story, he will maintain a stony silence, but I feel compelled to speak on his behalf and on the behalf of all unrecognized treasures that give us hope.

I love stones and rocks; I have always had a passion for them. I can remember as a little girl of seven or eight, spending a Christmas holiday searching a lush Uvongo tropical garden searching for the perfect stone. There were banana trees, frangipani and hibiscus hiding ants and geckos. I adventured like a little Durrell amongst them until I found my stone, it was beautiful. The smooth surface was cool in my hand, solid and telling me stories. I washed and wrapped it. I can still see the paper, green with tiny silver stars. On Christmas morning, I gave my mom her gift. She put 
Social distancing - watching birds
and reading poetry.
it next to her and we opened the rest of our presents.

We were a large family, mom, dad, four brothers and I, all competed for attention. Once all the presents had been opened, it was time to clear the lounge floor. It was my job to pick up the discarded wrapping paper. I gathered the paper, but there was a heaviness in the pile. Under its shiny, green, star paper, was my rock. I’m not sure why that moment has stayed with me, it was just a rock. I think I understood then, in a very childlike way, that I didn’t see the world others saw it. What was treasure for me didn’t always have the same meaning for others but it could still be mine.  

Many years later, a rock was given to me by the mother of a dear friend. He wasn’t wrapped or named, simply put into my hands with his stony, eggy shape fitting into the curve of my palm. I was a young teacher then and it was back in the day when pet rocks were a thing. He came to school and took up residence on my desk. I named him Horatio Hornblower after C S Forester’s naval captain. I have no idea why, it just seemed to fit.

The story around Horatio grew. He was a failed rock star who had his own version of ‘Rock Around the Clock’, but Bill Haley and then that wannabe, Elvis, had taken his shine. Like many rock stars, he spent years being stoned. He refused to eat and battled with anarocksia. At night, I would sing him ‘Rock-a-bye baby’. You get the idea.

Horatio lived a dangerous, swashbuckling life. He was often kidnapped and held to ransom. I would find a note on my desk demanding a free period or cake for the class in return for his freedom. I was sent photographs showing Horatio in precarious positions, on a stove, under a saw and even on a beach, tanning and threatening not to come home. He went to a Valentine’s Ball and had scarves knitted for him and fashion outfits made. At times, for the safety of the class, he would be confined to his cage. The wooden cage was made by my grandfather, who always supported me in my madness.

Beneath his hard exterior, Horatio has a gentle heart. Beyond the fun, Horatio served a purpose and that was to give a timeout to those who needed it, including myself. The girls knew that if they asked to take Horatio for a walk, they would be allowed to leave class for as long as they needed, just to take a breath. Horatio has been on many walks and I don’t think his purpose was ever abused.
Horatio was a symbol of permission to find a quiet space in the midst of distress or noise. No explanations were needed; no explanation was asked for when Horatio returned. Everyone understood and just let the person be.

Emily Dickinson
We all need to take Horatio for a walk sometimes. This seems especially important now as we spend prolonged periods of time shut up in our homes. The silliest things can make us smile and bring us comfort – share your treasures. Have something that signals a timeout. Even if you are in a small space you can have a shower or go out and just sit in your car and be quiet or listen to music.

I took some time with Horatio today. He was reading an Emily Dickinson poem, ‘Hope is the thing with feathers’. I thought of the little girl wrapping stones, finding treasure where there was none. As I look back over my life, I’ve found treasure in the most unexpected places. Perhaps trasure will come from this terrible time.

The biggest treasure that we can find for ourselves and then for others, is hope. Hope, as Dickinson reminds us, asks nothing of us, but like the birds, is ready to be found.

You have permission. Take a moment to find a place of hope. When you have found it, share it with someone else. Even if it’s as small as a smile or a silly post on Facebook.

 “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers -/ That perches in the soul-/ And sings the tune without the words-/And never stops - at all-“…

It never stops – at all.

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