A Self-Portrait or Not allowing the Waves to Drag You Down

Standing on this rock, yesterday, I looked down at my shoes(my very favorite beach shoes because they are great for climbing rocks) and watched as the ocean breathed in and then out, in and then out.  I felt somewhat safe and anchored from on top of my little perch which protected me from the oncoming movement of the tide.
The chilly saltwater gently approached my little haven of momentary security and settled at my toes, but only for a few brief seconds.  
It brought with it a foamy layer which carried surprises in from the sea.  I watched as this went on for a fairly long time, the ocean's steady breathing.

I thought about how most everything in our lives can be mimicked by nature.   Breathing, birth, loss, miracles and even calculated risk.  "Calculated risk", something I have often tried to teach my four Angel daughters about and have tried to balance in my own life, as well.  Knowing when to step forward and when to retreat.  Trusting your own instincts so that you don't end up falling on your bottom, soaking wet with sand down your pants.  Or worse, taking a step too far and being dragged out into a rip-tide, unable to recognize which end is up or down.
So as I waited for the water to retreat, once more, I jumped off of my rock and began to scurry happily(and still quite dry) away from the impending crash of the waves.  And as I stopped to snap just one more picture, there was the water where my toes once held their ground.

May I take this moment to express my heartfelt gratitude to all of my readers.  May I say thank you for the beautifully thought-out comments that you leave for me, and for the silent prayers and well-wishes when you don't.  I treasure every word, every prayer and every positive thought that is sent my way.  May you always find a safe place in which to weigh the risks.

Tiny Treasures or Meditating on a Rocky Beach

Our beach home resides on a bluff which overlooks the rocky beaches of San Clemente, California.  On the days when I feel up to it, Mark and I like to take a walk along the coastline.  There are very few seashells to be found, but the wonderfully organic shapes of the various rocks that can be discovered are endless.  As the waves roll into the shore, you can actually hear the clinking of the rocks as they ride onto the beach with the tide.  The sound is quite hypnotic, especially when mixed with the calls of the Seagulls, and the rising laughter of children as they clammer away from the waves.  The landscape is never the same.  It is an ever-changing slice of nature's magic, transforming moment by moment.

Walking along the shoreline, one day, I discovered something which seemed a bit out of place.  It was a tiny, triangular piece of glass which was translucent green in color.  Its edges were smooth, but its surface was etched from the sand that tumbled around it.  I picked it up, and I was immediately filled with the curiosity of a child.  I needed to know more.  I needed to find more.  And so, my fascination with pure sea glass began.

It is a form of meditation for me.  Walking along the shoreline, searching through the thousands and thousands of rocks, only to discover the one, singular remnant of sea glass which shines brightly among the soft grays, the speckled blacks and the creamy whites.  There is something about searching for something so elusive that calms the mind and soul.

These tiny pieces of glass, survivors of something which began as something much larger, somehow made it to the beach below my feet.  They may have tumbled about for hundreds of years, beginning as a bottle or a radio transmitter, or who knows what else, only to be discovered by me, a small fragment in time.  Mark humors me in my search as he finds his own form of meditation in the ocean waves.  He watches the surfers.  He stops occasionally to pick up the tiniest treasure which I proudly add to my collection.  When he does this, I remind him that "he is the MAN", and we smile knowing that whatever we are in, we are in it together.  And we return home as I banter on about the amazing pieces of treasure we have collected, alone, but together.  He listens.

It is like that, isn't it?  We set out on this journey alone, only to find someone along the way who allows us to meditate and refocus in whatever way might be necessary and then who sometimes joins in along the way.  Allowing enough distance, yet enough closeness to remind both yourself and he or she that they are indeed "the MAN!"  When we join up on this journey, together, it should be in a way that still allows the other person to indulge in quiet meditation, even if that means sometimes humoring one another.  Even if it means something as seemingly insignificant as searching for pieces of sea glass on a rocky beach.

Like many of the things I write, this turned out to be something very different from what it set out to be.  Yet, sometimes allowing the stream of consciousness to move from one thought to another is like dreaming while awake.  It's like not really knowing why you are starting out where you are until you get to the end.

May you discover whatever form of quiet mediation brings you the most peace.  May you take the time to allow yourself to indulge in whatever it is that works for you.  And may you be lucky enough to find someone, along the way, who cares enough to accompany you.  Allowing you to both find the pieces on your own, while also knowing when to hand you a tiny treasure along the way.