All rocks are really flying of their own accord but by the slowest possible forms that we could ever come to appreciate. Oh sure they may all be moving vibrationally in their apparent stillness but flying by our terms of recognition and then acknowledgment, not so much. We have a very limited list of visual associations we would perceive as rocks flying but those are not by their own means. We have versions of rocks hurled as in retaliatory efforts of peoples against other peoples. We have the volcanic version from explosive means. We have the acquired possession of rocks considered esthetically pleasing that get moved by human mandate and demonstrative need as in door stop, geologic valuables, garden positionings, bookends, landscape accounts from boulders to almost granulars, and, of course climbing mishaps from human gripping circumstances. Our personal timelines make rocks flying irrelevant otherwise. There is no flight comparison between a rock and a butterfly or a bird or even something ballistic. It is just not believable in the relevant course of things. Yes, we are willing to acknowledge that mountains do, ever so slowly, migrate to the sea and the actions of erosion either by wind or water or thermals may feature rock diminishment until as dust swept ups, my god, it flies (!), becomes shockingly evident. But in the grossness of this theory, rocks flying of their own accord are a muse of paradox or contradiction given well-earned perceptual account. Look, rock came into matter at some point and at another, rock will totally and completely disappear, dissolved, loose its form back to essence, the same as we. Hey, teeth, bones, tissue and rock will all have their time. And rocks will fly before they are gone even if only as dismissible dust carried up by the favors of wind but nonetheless, timelines being what they are for each of us, dust with rock identity will fly as well as bird and dirt all get to sing . . .