A rolling stone gathers no moss. A statement of poetic origin that offers up several interpretations: on the one hand, it connotes a rock that tumbles hither and yon, tossed about by the vicissitudes of change - never allowed to nestle into a safe and quiet quarter where little green fellows will grow upon its surface and lend a settled, ancient feeling to the eminence gris of the mineral world.
On the other hand, one could interpret this proverb as meaning that the stone maintains its pristine condition, unsullied by moist, clingy things that smother its uniquely textured surface. A symbol of non-attachment, it moves freely through life unimpeded by green growth that seeks to hinder its pure trajectory through champagne air.
And then the life process itself: we may think we are growing roots and settling in - or the opposite - flying free with no restraining elements. But the bottom line evidence reveals that neither stone nor moss last forever; sooner or later both the solid and the squishy will melt away, joined together in the sameness of infinite birth, death and rebirth.
On the other hand, one could interpret this proverb as meaning that the stone maintains its pristine condition, unsullied by moist, clingy things that smother its uniquely textured surface. A symbol of non-attachment, it moves freely through life unimpeded by green growth that seeks to hinder its pure trajectory through champagne air.
And then the life process itself: we may think we are growing roots and settling in - or the opposite - flying free with no restraining elements. But the bottom line evidence reveals that neither stone nor moss last forever; sooner or later both the solid and the squishy will melt away, joined together in the sameness of infinite birth, death and rebirth.
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