We were shelling on the beach over the weekend. The shells that had landed on the beach were unbelievably beautiful and varied. It had been a long, long time since there had been such an unbelievable array of colorful and unusual shells for the taking. It turns out that times around the full moon are supposed to be the best times to find truly unique shells on any particular beach. We found large conch shells, and clam shells that were so brightly yellow and orange, you would have assumed they had been painted. There were piles of pearly snail shells which were so neatly arranged that my daughter wondered if someone had collected them and put them there, but it turns out, these piles were all over the beach, like leopard spots. I got excited and inspired enough by the experience, to order a book about the different varieties of shells on Amazon. It felt like a brand new, interesting experience, even though I have been shelling on beaches since I was a little girl. I got excited and reacquainted with the treasure hunt feel of it all, all over again.
Friends, this year has been an incredibly difficult and somewhat disillusioning year. A lot of things that make us energized and excited have gone dormant under layers of worry and concern and fatigue. But those things which arouse and delight us, are still there, underneath it all. Like finding a long lost piece of jewelry or another treasured thing, long considered gone forever, the experiences which make us feel moved and aflame, will happen again. We will surprise ourselves with the remembered feelings of delight and aliveness which these dormant experiences will bring us, when life starts to feel lighter again.
The beautiful shells that appeared on the beach, were always there. Some of them are hundreds, maybe even thousands of years old. It’s just that they got covered up by heavy sand and high tides from storms and winds and tossing seas. But on a calm, cloudless day, the sun shown its light on the glistening shells, and the moon smiled her blessing on the banquet of abundant gifts which she had bequeathed to the beach combers. And as the beach combers picked up their perfectly lovely gifts, to examine them closer and to hold them gently in their hands, near to their peaceful hearts, the shellers remembered how perfectly, naturally loved they were, and how perfectly and naturally loved, they have always, always been.