SECTION I, A Brother and His Rough Ashlar
I was visiting a Lodge on the East Coast when I met a Brother who carried himself with a quiet, thoughtful confidence. We fell into a conversation about introspection, that familiar saying, “Know Thyself,” and he told me he had taken that instruction very seriously. He said he had been working with the Rough Ashlar in a very personal way, using it to confront and correct some of the issues in his life. He spoke about it with a kind of excitement, the way a man speaks when he has finally found a tool that works.
Before we parted that evening, he invited me to his home to see what he meant.
The next day I drove out to his place. It was beautiful, the kind of home that showed he had worked hard and done well for himself. He led me through the house and out into the garage, where a sturdy workbench sat beneath bright lights. On the table were various hand tools, and beside them lay a very rough, jagged piece of stone.
“That,” he said, resting his hand on it, “is how I was feeling inside. Solid, yes. Firm, yes. But rough. Uneven. Full of edges I needed to face.”
As I looked closer, I noticed he had painted small numbers on the lumps and bumps of the stone. Each number represented something he needed to address in his life. He pointed to one that stood for his smoking habit, which he was determined to break. Another marked the grief he still carried from his father’s death. A smaller bump represented loose ends from his divorce, things he needed to resolve so he could move forward.
He told me that he alone was responsible for improving his life, and that real improvement takes time, patience, and honest reflection. Growth, he said, is gradual and lifelong.
Then he picked up a hammer and chisel and smiled. “This,” he said, “is liberating. Mentally, because I am facing my issues. Physically, because I am shaping something real. When the chips fly, I feel like something inside me is breaking loose too.”
I stood there watching him work, and I realized I was witnessing the Rough Ashlar in its purest form. Not as a symbol on a lecture slide, but as a living practice in a Brother’s life.
SECTION II, The Meaning of the Rough Ashlar
In operative masonry, the Rough Ashlar is the stone in its natural state, taken straight from the quarry. It is solid and full of potential, but it is uneven, jagged, and unfit for the builder’s purpose until it has been shaped. The work of smoothing and refining it is slow, deliberate, and guided by skill, patience, and intention.
In speculative Masonry, the Rough Ashlar represents the human condition at the beginning of our journey. Each of us enters the world with strengths and flaws, talents and blind spots, virtues and rough edges. None of us begins as a Perfect Ashlar. We begin as we are, and the Craft asks us to acknowledge that honestly.
The Rough Ashlar teaches several essential truths:
We are works in progress.
We carry roughness within us.
We are responsible for our own refinement.
Growth requires effort.
Transformation is gradual.
The Rough Ashlar is not a symbol of shame or inadequacy. It is a symbol of potential. It reminds us that imperfection is not failure, but the starting point of all meaningful work.
SECTION III, The Work of Shaping Ourselves
The Rough Ashlar teaches that every Mason begins with potential, but potential alone is not enough. A stone does not smooth itself. A life does not refine itself. The work of shaping character requires intention, effort, and the willingness to face the parts of ourselves we would rather ignore.
In the Lodge, we speak often about improvement, but the Rough Ashlar reminds us that improvement is not an idea. It is a practice.
Among the Brothers I used to spend time with, we had a running joke. Whenever one of us was wrestling with a habit, or trying to improve a part of our lives, or just having a rough week, someone would lean over and say with a grin, “So how’s your Ashlar coming along.” It always got a laugh, but it also carried a quiet truth. We were reminding each other, gently and without judgment, that every one of us is still being shaped.
The Rough Ashlar teaches us that:
We must name our rough edges.
We must face our weaknesses honestly.
We must be willing to change.
We must accept that growth is uneven.
We must return to the work again and again.
The goal is not perfection. The goal is progress.
SECTION III A, The Door We Avoid
Every man carries a place inside himself that he would rather not open. A memory, a habit, a wound, a fear. Something that sits behind a door he keeps closed because he knows what lies behind it will demand courage, honesty, and emotional labor.
It is easy for others to say, “Just handle it,” but the truth is more complicated.
Some issues are not ready to be faced all at once. Some require strength we have not yet built. Some require time, support, or healing before we can even approach the door.
The Rough Ashlar teaches us that growth is gradual. A stone is not shaped in a single blow, and a life is not shaped in a single moment of bravery.
So how do we know when it is time:
If the issue is harming us or others, it may be time.
If it keeps returning in different forms, it may be time.
If we feel a quiet readiness, even mixed with fear, it may be time.
If we feel overwhelmed or unsafe, it may be wise to wait.
Some stones require gentle sanding. Some require a firm strike. Some require us to step back and return when we are ready.
The important thing is that we do not abandon the work.
A Reflective Pause
Before we move into June’s moment of honest self assessment, it helps to pause and listen to the voice of the Rough Ashlar itself. The part of us that is still becoming, still learning, still being shaped.
Rough Ashlar
by Tom
I stand as stone, unshaped, unsure, With edges cut by time and chance. Yet in my flaws, a promise lives, The will to grow, the choice to advance.
Each careful strike refines the form, Not to erase what once I was, But shape the self I strive to be, A truer stone, by earned design.
SECTION IV, The Mid Year Moment, June and the Rough Ashlar
June sits at the center of the year, a natural pause between what has been and what is still ahead. It is neither the beginning nor the end, but the place where a Mason stops long enough to take an honest look at his progress.
By June, the spark of those New Year’s resolutions has dimmed a bit. The tools we picked up with excitement now show signs of use. Some habits have improved. Others have resisted us. A few rough edges we thought we had smoothed may have reappeared.
This is the moment when the Rough Ashlar speaks most clearly.
It asks us to look inward and ask:
What parts of myself still need shaping
What habits have I allowed to return
What rough edges have I ignored
What progress have I made
What work remains for the months ahead
This is not a moment for judgment. It is a moment for honesty.
June invites us to recommit to the work of shaping ourselves. Not because we are flawed, but because we are capable of becoming more.
SECTION V, Returning to the Stone
When I think back to that Brother on the East Coast, standing in his garage with a hammer in his hand and stone chips at his feet, I realize now that he was doing something many of us talk about but few of us practice with such honesty.
He was not just studying the Rough Ashlar. He was living it.
He had taken the symbol off the lecture platform and placed it on his workbench. He had given shape and weight to the parts of himself he wanted to improve. He had named his rough edges, numbered them, and faced them one at a time.
Every Mason has a stone like his, though most of ours are invisible.
Some edges we smooth easily. Others resist us. And some require time, strength, and readiness before we can face them.
But the important thing is that we keep returning to the stone.
As June arrives and the year reaches its midpoint, the Rough Ashlar invites each of us to pause and look inward. Not with judgment, but with honesty. Not with fear, but with hope. Not with the expectation of perfection, but with the quiet determination to keep improving.
The Brother I met that day taught me something I have carried ever since. The stone only changes when we pick up the tools.
And so, each of us must ask, not in jest this time, but with sincerity, How is my Ashlar coming along.
June Companion Checklist, The Rough Ashlar
These are practices I have found helpful in my own journey, small, steady ways to return to the stone with honesty and intention.
1. Name one rough edge you are ready to work on this month.
Choose something small, specific, and honest, one place where a little effort can make a real difference.
2. Identify one door you are not ready to open, and honor that.
Not every issue must be faced today. Respect your own readiness. Wisdom includes pacing.
3. Choose one steady action you can take in June.
A daily habit, a weekly practice, or a single intentional step. Small strikes shape the stone.
4. Reflect on one place where you have already smoothed the stone.
Acknowledge progress. Growth deserves recognition, not just correction.
5. Recommit to one tool you have set aside.
A practice, a discipline, a mindset, something you once used well and can pick up again.
6. Ask yourself with sincerity, How is my Ashlar coming along.
Not as a joke, not as pressure, but as an honest moment of self awareness.
These steps have helped me return to my own stone. Perhaps they will help you return to yours.
For another symbol that shapes our inner work, you might, you may enjoy my reflection on the Compass and Square.
This reflection is part of my twelve-part series Unlocking the Symbols of Freemasonry. You can explore the full journey here.
