...And Every One, Unique

Gary and I arrived at one of our favorite beaches at low tide the other day. The sheer quantity of shells caught my breath. Searching for shells under normal conditions, when they are scattered sparsely across the wide sandy landscape, is one thing. It becomes something very different when you are confronted with such an abundance of riches. 

You may have noticed that when you are looking for shells on a beach, it is the rare ones that capture your attention. Shells seem to lose their cache' when surrounded by seemingly thousands of lookalikes. Ironically, and sadly to my mind, this is true even of colorful and intriguingly shaped ones. 

To counteract this, I find that I want to appreciate each shell for itself, for the beauty it offers in the pattern of color that sweeps across it, or the unique design of the material from which it is formed. This became more of a possibility for me today when we again arrived at the beach at low tide. Instead of setting up my fitness device to start measuring steps as I usually do, I made the conscious decision not to think of this as a form of exercise. 

I simply started walking. Actually, I started wandering down the shoreline where the waves were receding. As one does in meditation, I cultivated a soft gaze. I was not actively looking for anything, I was simply opening myself up to the time and place, availing myself of the opportunity to take in whatever caught my attention. 

As I walked, I felt peaceful. I didn't feel the need to rush or to arrive at some particular destination. The shells shone up at me from the sand, and I felt like I really saw each one. I noticed colors and shapes. I stopped often to pick up a shell that seemed especially interesting so that I could feel its texture. Some were brittle and paper thin, which others had what seemed to be years worth of accumulation built up on the original shell. Some were intact while others were mere fragments of their former selves, having been pounded by the relentless waves tossing them up on the shore and drawing them back into the water over and over again.

The uniqueness of each shell reminded me of the value of seeing myself and others as I was learning to see and appreciate the shells, as unique and beautiful. This is true even if we are a bit brittle or broken at times. That soft gaze I spoke of at the beginning of my walk, the one I learned in meditation, helps me look at myself and others with the eyes of the heart rather than just in physical terms. This is probably the best gift we can give each other. It is also a pretty amazing gift we can give to ourselves, to see and recognize the unique beauty we bring to the world around us.