A Beachcomber of Beauty...and, hopefully, some wisdom

As a curious, artistic kid growing up in Nebraska, I used to find beautiful rock, stones and pebbles
(and odd ugly ones, too) on my nature hikes--
on gravel roads and creeks outside of our small village, and elsewhere--



would put the heavy things in my pockets or carry them home in my hands
and add them to my growing collection.
A real rock dog.
(I guess I could say ‘stoner’ but that might mislead readers;-)

And later found others non-precious gems in the Black Hills, Rockies and Sierras,
and a small chunk of copper from a mine in Arizona, animal bones from Montana,
besides lots of pebbles, quartz, feldspar, granite, agates, mica, who-knows rocks, fool’s gold, sea-glass,
and many sorts of shells and other sea life from 3 coasts.

I became a beachcomber of beauty,
a voyager through the washed-up-and-down of life.

A drifter and sea stroller who walks along sand dunes and shores
looking for unique things, even riff-raff...

Now here on my computer desk and various shelves--rocks, pebbles, and shells
lay still waiting for another
I-It encounter:-)--

that aesthetic depth which sometimes
transcends itself
into
wonder!

Which reminds me of another key pebble of beauty for living--
that we humans get washed up
on this shore of existence,
surrounded and crowded

by circumstances
we didn't choose.

But the wonder of our human brain’s neural plasticity
is that we each get to choose
how we respond to life's circumstances
and we get to create anew,
contribute a line,
as Walt Whitman
versed.*

--


Beauty and, hopefully, wisdom created by choice

And, then, there are the more folksy versions of that point:

Oyster Choice
by Unknown

There once was an oyster tale to tell,
Of beach sand that got into his shell;

'Unjust' a grain; it gave him great pain.
Oysters got feelings though they're so plain.

Did he curse...go mum and clam, or claim
The lively sea shouldn't so maim?

'No,' said he laying in his shell,
'Since I can't remove, improve it, I shall.'

Thus, a mean grain of sand that hurt so
Became a beautiful pearl aglow.

--Adapted, Author Unknown

What has washed up on your shore today?

What beautiful pebbled moments of wonder?


Or what irritant, ache, troubling circumstance, or tragedy
has gotten lodged in your
oyster mind and heart?

What creative choices can you make to turn this problem into a precious pebble/stone/moment/agate?

In the Light,

Daniel Wilcox