Prospecting is looking for the rock that is different than the others, has a different skin, a different color, a different content. Prospecting eyes seek the unique, the unusual, the stand-out from the crowd by discarding the known, isolating what is unfamiliar, relying on internal knowledge.
The outer surface, the weathered surface, is different than the surface exposed by breaking the rock. Through the hand lens, its focus, its intensity, its concentration, its power to magnify, the rock is exposed in a way the prospector can’t anticipate. When the focus is clear, the light is correct, the hand holds still, the breath abates, the rock lures the prospector into its being, into its story. The rock becomes the Siren of myth. It is irresistible.
Wandering the lens, now an extension of the eye, over the freshly-exposed surface is to be drawn into the world of myth, of fantasy, to see what has not been seen since its inception, its formation millions, thousands, hundreds of years before that moment. It is a moment transcending the arbitrary time of human fabrication. It is a moment of history, of prehistory, of birth and of stillness.
Now, in the prospector's mind, there is nothing. She succumbs to the lure of the rock, to the mystery of its formation, to the realization of its wisdom, to its ability to hold truth absolute firmly with faith and courage, strength and duration. At this moment, the prospector, in awe, is humbled. It is simply a spiritual experience.
The prospector's eyes are those of a cat's: the green purity of emeralds, clear without depth. There is no blue in their existence.
NEXT WEEK: The Art of Prospecting: A Long Walk Over Uneven Ground…Instinct and Intent