Ryan Jordan

The Time Machine Rock

I found a two-ton granite boulder wandering along the banks of the Madison River near Norris, MT a few weeks ago, and spent 22 minutes of my life focusing my vision only eight inches away from one small portion of it.


After minute 18, my son, concerned, walked up cautiously, and said, “Hey, Dad, are you OK?”


“Shhhshmmpphhfff–can’t right now–shhh.” I said, with no shortage of the wisdom that comes when the energy of lichen-covered granite fills your soul. 

As profound as I’d like to make this, sometimes you have to just hang it out there and ask why, because simple acts sometimes seem to transcend any meaningful explanation, in spite of the rewards that come from them.