Skip to main content

Unpacking "The Interpreted Rock": A Journey of Meaning and Insight

By Stephen C. Schultz

I was sitting in Atlanta, waiting for a flight to Bermuda. It was actually a work-related trip, and the conversation between my wife and me as I headed out the door went like this:

“Yes, it’s Bermuda. But it’s a short stay, and we’ll be in a workshop the whole time.”

“Oh... I’m crying crocodile tears!” she mocked.

It was no use. There’s no way to gain anyone’s sympathy when you're headed to Bermuda. It is, without a doubt, a wonderful place. I’m fortunate to work with an organization that takes seriously the support and encouragement of families, no matter where they are located.

While waiting for my flight, I received a message on my phone from a friend who said it had been a while since I posted something on my blog. She mentioned that she looked forward to seeing what was next.

I mentioned this to my brother Jared, who was sitting next to me in the airport (why he was going to Bermuda with me is another story). I showed him the message from my friend and mentioned that I had a blog. He laughed. I explained that it was a blog blending personal experiences, insights, childhood memories, and situations related to work. He laughed again. So, I pulled out my phone and showed him the blog. He started reading. He laughed.

After reading for a while, he looked over, raised an eyebrow, and said,

“The Interpreted Rock?”

I told him the idea actually came from a conversation I had with “Doc Dan,” the former Clinical Director at RedCliff Ascent.

Back in the early days, when wilderness therapy programs were just beginning to be recognized as a viable treatment modality for teens, it was common for students hiking in the backcountry to get frustrated. It still is. But back then, when a student would swear, they were required to pick up a rock and put it in their backpack. While this “consequence” was meant to encourage students to “think before they act,” it soon became perceived simply as punishment—a dynamic many of these students were already very familiar with in their families of origin.

“The problem,” Dan said, “is that the rock was never interpreted! There was never any meaning brought to bear on the situation. There was no value to the students. It was simply an ‘uninterpreted rock.’”

How often in life, when we communicate with and parent our own kids, do we throw around “rocks” like:

  • “You’re grounded!”
  • “Because I said so!”
  • “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times…!”

Do we take the time to interpret the situation with our kids? Do we encourage meaning, understanding, and insight to take root? Or do we simply allow consequences to become the proverbial uninterpreted rock in the backpack of our children’s lives?

With that explanation of my blog’s title, my PhD and trainer-of-therapists brother nodded in agreement. Then he glanced in my direction and, with a chuckle in his voice, said,

“A blog…?”

He laughed.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Thanks, Steve. YEs, it brought a nice smile.
I'd like to hear more about the "other: Discovery program about which I heard during Asheville. Geared toward trade and technical training?
Thanks so much Jennifer, It was certainly a fun time in Bermuda with my brother! I appreciate the comment! I'm glad it was informative and helpful.
Unknown said…
Your brother sounds like quite the character lol Love this piece and its application.
Thanks so much +Dyane Forde. Yes, my brother is a fun guy! He's actually taking a new position at University of Arizona this summer. Moving to Tucson...gonna be a Wildcat!
Anonymous said…
Good to read you always Stephen, stories to tell, greetings bud.

Popular posts from this blog

The Young Boy and the Rattlesnake

By Stephen C. Schultz (Editors note: This is a story used in a Wilderness Treatment Program. Many come to this program having struggled with depression, anxiety and substance use.)   Many years ago there was a young Native American who lived in the very land you are residing in. He decided to seek wisdom by journeying to the top of Indian Peak. As he approached the base of the mountain he came across a rattlesnake that slithered beside him. The snake coiled as if to strike and the young boy moved back quickly in fear of being struck by the snake’s deadly venom. At that instant the snake spoke to the boy saying, “Don’t be afraid of me, I mean you no harm. I come to you to ask a favor. I see that you are about to traverse to the top of Indian Peak and was hoping that you may be willing to place me in your satchel so that I don’t have to make the long journey alone.” The young boy surprised by the snake’s request quickly responded by turning down the offer, stating, ...

"Sugar and Spice" - A Child's Kindness

By Stephen C. Schultz I recall a childhood rhyme that went something like this: “...sugar and spice and everything nice… that’s what little girls are made of!” As the father of three daughters and one son, there is no doubt about the truthfulness of that saying. A couple of weeks ago, I was in San Diego with my family. We were down at Seaport Village, right on the bay, having lunch. It was a beautiful day—sun shining, light breeze—and we were eating on an outside deck. We were engaged in a conversation about what we wanted to do later that day when I noticed my youngest daughter, a fifth grader, was focused on something else. I turned to see what she was gazing at. She was following the movements of a transient man who had walked up onto the deck and was systematically searching the garbage cans for food. He was looking in each receptacle, reaching in to move the contents around. At one can, his hand came out with a partially eaten sandwich of some kind. He reached back in and grab...

When Seizures Strike: A Story of Resilience, Love, and Hope

 By Stephen C. Schultz  As a father, I never anticipated seeing and emotionally supporting my daughter through 50 seizures a day, for days on end. Each seizure brings with it a stiffened left arm and leg, convulsing motions, eyes rolling back to the left, and her head contorting to the right. Her breathing stops for the duration. The most harrowing aspect is that she remains conscious and aware of her surroundings. She can hear people talking, but her body simply does what it does. After 15 to 30 seconds of not breathing, a panic begins to set in. What if the seizure doesn’t stop? It’s a horrific experience to endure time and time again. It is nothing short of torture, with the emotional and psychological trauma that accompanies it. There were four seizures in the car on the way to the emergency room, all within about 20 minutes. After 10 hours in the emergency room, she was admitted and immediately hooked up to an EEG. There was a computer screen displaying graphs and a video...