Hope Rolls

The words "I'm starting to lose hope." tumbled roughly out of my mouth just at the precise moment that my husband bent down to retrieve it.  We were sea glass hunting on a beach in San Clemente.  We were walking through a large patch of sea-worn stones talking and searching for the glimmers of green, cobalt blue and weathered whites amongst the copious numbers of rocks which had washed up onto the sand.  I was trying to make sense of a situation that makes very little sense, but it also appeared to be a poor day for recovering any sea glass.  Where exactly the loss of hope was emanating from was a bit unclear.  Just as the word hope made its way past my lips(to God's ears, as they say), Mark knelt down and pointed to it.  And as my eyes focused upon the light blue sea glass marble which he was pointing to, they skipped past it to the second one that was resting only several inches away.

There, in the pile of anonymous grey and black rocks, sat two tiny orbs weathered by sand and saltwater just waiting to restore hope in two wandering hunters.  I rocked back on my heels from the squatting position that I sat transfixed in and sat down on the beach.  I placed my elbows down on my knees and rested my chin in my hands.  Unbridled laughter rose up from my heart and I shook my head.  In my entire sea glassing life of almost two years, I have retrieved only one and a half sea glass marbles amongst the pounds of mermaid tears and weathered glass bits.  One and a half.  And now, on this day of broken hope, there sat two perfect marbles from times gone by.

I scooped them up and handed them to my husband.  He examined them with curiosity and then handed them back to me.  I let them roll around in my palm as I gazed out upon the vastness of the ocean.  How much is out there to be retrieved just when the timing is perfect?  Do we sometimes miss the answers because we are so wrapped up in the questions?

I reached my hands up towards my husband and he pulled me to my feet.  I tucked the marbles into my pocket and then hugged onto my beloved husband with a renewed fervor.  We headed back to meet our oldest Angel Daughter for dinner along another half mile stretch of beach.  Hope rolled around in my mind, heart and pocket with each step.

Neither one of us came across another piece of sea glass that day.

What Returns

                                   *sea glass from a San Francisco beach

When my brother died, unexpectedly, a little less than a year ago, our family went through a metamorphosis which led us down to the ocean.  No longer could we hold onto our dreams until tomorrow or tomorrow or tomorrow.  We felt the sudden desperate need to focus on the immediacy of today and with that, we decided to do something that experts in grief counseling would advise someone never to do.  We made the huge decision to rush one of our "when the girls leave home" dreams into reality.  We bought our beach home.  It felt like something that we had to do at the time and we are filled with gratitude by the fact that we were able to bring our dream into reality at a time when we desperately needed it.

So much has changed for us over the course of a year.  But with the sad, with the grieving, with the pain, came some very good things, as well.  And as I begin to emerge from the fog that a sudden shock will cover the lens of life with, some of the diversions which helped to bring me to today will remain with me into many tomorrows.  One of those diversions that became a form of meditation for me, is sea glass hunting.  I cannot begin to express the pleasure that I have gained from the hours that I have spent walking the beaches, over the past months, and collecting sea glass.  The tiny shards of colorful glass that the ocean transforms and then returns to the shoreline, allow me to fixate not only on what is lost, but also on what returns to us after the initial adjustment which occurs after a change.
When Mark and I took our four Angels up to San Francisco, last month, we found a beach that was covered in rocks and sea glass.  It was absolutely amazing!  When we treasure hunt down here in Southern California, the beautiful bits of sea glass are becoming more and more rare, but the father up north you travel, the more and more plentiful the remnants become.  The photos above picture some of the sea glass that I collected during our trip to San Francisco.  If you multiply that amount by six, you will get a better idea of how much glorious treasure our family unearthed.  We came home with pounds of this beautiful bounty, along with the special memories that we shared as a family on our treasure hunts.  Those wonderful memories will be something that we will be able to return to, over and over again.
                                   *seagulls in the sun, San Clemente, California

My four Angels have now taken an interest in sea glass hunting along with their dad and I.  I love that this is something that we will be able to share and enjoy together for many years to come.  Mark and I are planning another trip which will also involve scouring the beaches for treasures.  I know that time will bring along with it many, many changes but if we have something to which we can all return, the difficult times will be much more manageable.

As I was sitting here writing this, I could not help but wonder.  What are some of the things that you do in order to weather the changes of life?  What do you find yourself returning to?  I know many people turn to God or spirituality and that is huge and important, but what kinds of things do you do to distract yourself when life becomes too rough?

Transformation and Rarity

As I have written about before, over the past several months I have felt somewhat of a compulsion to search for and collect sea glass.  I know, in my heart, that I am searching desperately for something else, something that I have not yet realized or discovered, but the sea glass provides a beautiful diversion to what it is that I might really be looking for.  Sea glass consists of small fragments of glass which have become reshaped and sometimes re-colored over many, many decades barely reminiscent of their original shape and form.  The glass somehow finds its way into the ocean(or sometimes rivers and lakes) either by human hand, shipwreck, or happenstance.  This leaves it open to the elements resulting in a metamorphosis that can be breathtaking.  Each tiny piece is a rarity in it's own right.  A small example of how something can begin as one thing, and then, over time, end up as another. I also collect other interesting bits and pieces during my long, meditative walks on the beach.  Seashells, rocks and other ephemera catch my eye.  I cannot help but marvel at the absolute beauty which the ocean gifts back to the beach.  To me, it is like a treasure chest filled with the most marvelous of wonders.  I wander the beaches with a feeling of reverence that sometimes overcomes me.
Last week, I came across this rock that is filled with holes, varying striations and remnants of shells that must have been inhabited by tiny sea creatures at one point in time.  I often find rocks which have holes burrowed straight through, but this one was quite an interesting piece.  It was like a miniature village of some sort which was once part of the ocean floor.  I am sure that at some point in time, it was just a smooth rock, but somehow over time it's surface changed.  It was remolded by the sea.  Small animals and shellfish turned it into something other than what it had started out as.  And then, one day I was walking down the beach and it showed up at my feet.  It now resides inside of my home and it is still changing.  When Mark began to examine it, yesterday, he turned it over to look at it from the bottom and as he did, sand poured out from the holes.  It is an ever-changing creation of nature which continues to evolve in subtle ways even as it is explored by humans.
As I sit here considering the shear wonder of how things change, I cannot help but be reminded about what we, as individuals, go through during our lifetimes.  We are shaped and reshaped over and over again.  Each one of our lives sculpt us into unmatched beings of rarity, and just as the sea glass, or the rock or a seashell can change it's form depending upon the elements which it is exposed to, we change in so many subtle and not so subtle ways over the course of our journeys.  Each one of us is a rarity that should not be taken for granted.  A work of art which is in the constant process of transitioning, adapting and shifting; resembling what we once were, but in many ways, not even close to looking like what we will someday be.

As a bit of an aside, I had to share something that I noticed about this rock after going through the pictures.  There is a heart(without the pointy bottom) carved at the base.  And somehow, whatever other message is derived, for me it often comes down to one thing, one very important, life-affirming thing.  Love.

Treasure Hunting

I've been spending quite a bit of time searching for treasures lately.  Treasures in my family, treasures in my friends, treasures in our furry and feathery family members, treasures in my beliefs and treasures in the most unexpected of places.  

When my brother died eight months ago, I felt an almost desperate need to make a deeper connection with the earth and also with the heavens.  I experienced a deep-seated need for quiet that was unmatched by any other period of my life.  That need for quiet, a sense of being removed from any unnecessary background chatter, has carried over into today.  I crave it in the same ways that I crave air and food and sleep.  I need to be able to hear the small, quiet whispers of my soul speaking to me from a place that only God can truly understand.  And so, I began searching.  I began looking towards the ethereal places in the clouds and the hard, rocky surfaces of the earth.  I paid more attention to the whispers.  I listened for the quiet.  I allowed myself the space that I needed to search for treasures.

The simple rock that my oldest Angel is wearing around her neck is an example of one of the treasures that made its way into our lives.  I found it on the beach and looked at it as an interesting rock with a hole burrowed through it.  Angel Daughter Number One viewed it as a talisman meant to be corded with a string and tied around her neck.  To me, the hole symbolized a small circle of empty space.  To my daughter, the hole symbolized an area that needed to be filled.  To each of us, this rock is a treasure.
The Pacific Ocean is filled with treasures.  Some of them wash up onto the shore and are discovered during a quiet, soulful walk on the rocky sand.  Others float in on the soft, invisible breezes which drive the waves that crash upon the shores.  Some of those treasures are experienced from the sand, but others must be discovered within the wind-driven waves.
Or sailing upon the undercurrent of the breeze.
Using the unseen as a treasure to glide upon through the salty waters of the ocean.  Using the treasure of the unseen to take flight from the sea.  
Treasures that can solitarily be found in the company of quiet.  
Treasures that can bring you back to the true meaning of why we are here and what most of us spend so much of our lives searching for.  Each search is different, yet the treasures are surprisingly similar.

As I walked along the rocky beach alone with as much silence as my mind would allow, I once again searched for treasures.  As usual, tiny pieces of sea glass and broken sea shells stood out to me and I collected them, one by one.  With each treasure that I discovered, I was able to experience a deeper sense of quiet that set my spirit into a sense of calm.  A seemingly unimportant hunt for something that could tangibly represent my desire to honor my need for some quiet space.  And then I spotted this heart-shaped stone and I knew that within all of the quiet, most of the answers that I find revolve around something fairly simple and organic...Love. 

May you allow yourself the quiet space that you require to search for treasures.  Treasures that inspire your spirit, treasures that move your soul, treasures that help you to listen to your own small, quiet voice.

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.