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LIFE
I. Skim.
Rearranging the cosmos, one perfectly formed pebble at a time
My dad taught me how to do it, down Pownd Plank when I was a little boy. He showed me how to choose a nice, flat stone that sat comfortably between my crooked index finger and the meaty part of my thumb. It shouldn’t be too rounded on top or bottom, but pleasingly oval in circumference. Choosing the right one, he said, made all the difference. Sage advice, indeed.
He instructed me thus: You had to hold the stone parallel to the ground, set your feet solid, slightly apart, bend your knees and rotate your whole torso around to the back as far as it would go. With an extended arm, elbow slightly bent, you spun the torso around to the front, bringing the arm through and released the stone with a flick of the forefinger along the edge as it left your hand. The flick is what gave it the spin that would carry it across the surface. And then you chose another perfect stone and did it all again. And again.
I must have skimmed thousands of stones since, every chance I got. Rearranging the fibre of the cosmos, one perfectly formed pebble at a time. It’s a very satisfying activity, even if it does leave you with a sore arm. It took years of practice to get it just right and when I did, and got my first twenty-skipper, the satisfaction was worth all the…
