I’ve been living on a remote mountain in Jalisco, Mexico for nearly four years. I am always surrounded by the canopies of giant trees waving in the wind, and the birdsong of colourful hummingbirds, green jays, and the hissing of vultures, among many others. But if there is one feature of this landscape that has captivated me most, it is the stones.
Truthfully, I’ve always been a girl obsessed with stones. From my childhood days in the “Rock Club” with my best friend (and now paid subscriber!) Bryanne—where we’d polish agates in her dad’s old tumbler—to my teenage years of handcrafting stone jewelry, and now to my daily walks among the giant boulders scattered across this wild land I call home, the stones have been a constant.
They have always felt like soul anchors to me—solid and humming with ancient memory. When I hold a stone, I feel myself tethered to something older, quieter, more enduring than any thought I could speak aloud. Some stones feel like prayers. Some feel like grandmothers. Some feel like the shape of grief that time has worn smooth.
These days, I visit them not just to find, but to listen.
In this short film, Soul Anchors, I share one of those quiet walks—seeking sit spots, listening for which stones call me, and remembering what it means to be held by the land. This is an offering from the mountain, from my morning, and from the long road home.
Yamuna x
