Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Gifts


Walking the beach with the dogs, we see people combing through the sand for sea glass. When a glimmer catches my eye, I'm tempted to pick up a piece. A lover of the water and a former synchronized swimmer on the Auburn Mermaids, I feel especially drawn to these mermaid tears. I also love that garbage has transformed to jewels.

I used to have a collection of sea glass. I gave it away a few months ago during our second round of getting rid of our things. So what's the point of collecting more? Collections do not jive with nomadic ways.

But I couldn't help myself. An especially beautiful amber piece winked at me from the sand. I bent down to pick it up. I turned it over in my hand, enjoying its smooth texture and honey hue.

When I passed a young woman digging in the sand and dropping pieces into her bag, I bent down and said, "Would you like this one?"

Her face lit up as though I'd offered her a yellow diamond.

"Wow, thanks!" she said. That's when I noticed one of her hands was shrunken like a delicate bird claw. She held out her other hand, and I dropped it in.

So for the past couple of weeks, I've been doing that: Picking up pieces and giving them to the collectors sitting in the sand. I love giving stuff away. It feels so good. (I recently read about a woman who does it for a living.)




Yesterday on our beach walk, Dave and I held hands and stared at the shimmering Strait of Juan de Fuca. We sent out beams of love and healing energy to a good friend who at that moment was undergoing cancer surgery. Last August, I had brain surgery--and I wished the same phenomenal healing for her. The day before, I sent her an email, a compilation of what I had focused on during my medical experience. She printed it out to take with her to the hospital:

I know tomorrow is the day you are pushing the reset button to get rid of the old and bring on the new, totally healthy you.

May you see the bright white light of all your health practitioners.
May you appreciate their expertise and everything that brought them into your sphere.
May you appreciate all the conventional and alternative resources that have come together in your life.
May you see the truth of yourself healed and whole.
May you feel the powerful stillness of your spirit, which is fully connected to all that is.
May you feel the love of everyone who surrounds you and thinks of you.
May you know that all is well.

"There is more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophies."
-- Friedrich Nietzsche

I thought about all of this as we turned to walk down the beach, the dogs flying.

We came across a stretch of sand peppered with more sea glass than I'd seen in one spot. Dave bent down to pick up a blue piece. I picked up a white one. We held out our palms. We ooohed and ahhed.

We gathered piece after piece. We dropped them into a plastic bag and kept going. I wondered for a moment if we were going to keep these. Could we not help ourselves?

And then I realized we were doing it for our friend. We will find the perfect vessel for these gems. We will give them to her when we see her in October. We will tell her about the gifts washed up from the sea, just for her.

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