Seashell Meditation

Written after a walk on the beach last week...

Walking down the beach, pausing to pick up whatever orange seashell catches my eye. There are thousands of shells dusting the shoreline but I want only the deepest orange (a color I have been drawn to probably since I became an Orangeman at Syracuse University in 1991 but it has stuck with me for different reasons since then). For one of the plethora to catch my eye and cause me to stop my consistent gate…I pick it up, rub the sand off with my fingers, making sure it’s no one’s current home, then put in my collection bag.

The sound of the waves completing and resting over the tops of my feet. This particular beach in Florida has more trash than I prefer to see—well, I prefer to see no trash on the beach, but what I can’t pick up I see as a distraction from my walking meditation.

The word, or is it the name, GRACE written in shells just upshore. The squeals of little children running to their father, asking “Daddy, can I take my shirt off?” There are a good number of Haitian families here and their beach attire is different than what we’re accustomed to. Yes, child, take off your shirt. Take it all in.

My focus goes back to the scan of the wet sand for my orange shells. Oh—a really cool striped grey and white shell. That’s worth holding on to. Literally. Holding it in my hand. Connecting with the uniqueness of this, and each other shell that I lift from the Earth. The ocean reminds me of the vastness of this planet and the connectedness of us all—people, plants, water, animals, sea creatures, each grain of sand between my toes. For one shell to catch my eye and for me to make this a part of my world…it’s a mindful practice, shell hunting.

Looking up to catch a glimpse of the high rise hotel. This is not my idea of beauty. I look to the East and instead gaze upon the cloud formations just above the horizon. I notice the fine mist of rain dusting my forehead. I hadn’t realized it was raining a minute ago.

Cool! Smooth rocks and a really great stone that looks like years of sentiment have built up to create this beautiful one-of-a-kind gem that has found it’s temporary home directly in my path.

What a gift, what a treasure, to be able to walk the shore and take in the gifts that nature has to offer: the mist, the sea, the shells and stones, the children, and the clouds. At one point I almost felt compelled to make the sign of the cross. A symbol of reverence more relative to my younger years, I realize I’m deeply moved and connected not only to my environment but to my higher self. Hands in prayer at hearts center is more of my current mudra. I continued and walked grateful on my path, and plan to carry all of this with me.