Yogis,
I stood at the edge of the ocean. Sand between my toes. The squawk
of the seagulls above. Sun on my quickly bronzing skin. The water rushed in encircling
my ankles and then just as quickly retreating back from whence it came.
Beachcombing. The act of ‘an individual combing the beach
and intertidal area for things of value, interest or utility.’ I was there to
see what I could find, but in the process discovered that beachcombing mimics
life.
Like the inhale, the incoming waves bringing in the new.
Colors, shapes, textures. A broken conch shell, seaweed, crab claws. Making the
unseen - seen. Forming an intricate collage
in the sand. Followed by the exhale of the outgoing waves. Taking that which
was no longer needed. The heaviness burying my feet deeper in the sand. The collage changed forever in a single
breath. A single wave. A single moment.
Impermanence. Three feet ahead I spot a piece of driftwood rushing
in with the foam, but in the brief moment it takes my feet to free themselves
and propel me forward, it’s gone. It may return…..but then again, it may not. Attachment
causes suffering.
When I first comb the beach I am looking. It can be dizzying
as I scan in search of that treasure. Expectations. But as I slow the breath,
slow the steps and soften the eyes I begin to make the shift to seeing. Just as
I am able to ‘look’ at you or ‘see’ you, I begin to see the life that lies at
my feet. Imagining the history. Wondering what brought them here before me at
this precise time. Our paths crossing. Seeing vs looking.
I remembered hearing over the week that there were sand dollars.
As I stood at the edge of the ocean taking
pictures of the flow of the tide and the gifts it was bringing, I visualized the
pattern a sand dollar holds. My camera suddenly focuses on a white shape. Had
it been there all along or was I finally seeing? Had my vision brought it here?
Reminded that each breath is a chance for something amazing, I pull it toward
me.
The incoming tide in late morning. Strong, fierce, filled
with life. We move our chairs, umbrellas, bags and shoes back….but never
enough. Three times. Four times we move. Underestimating its power.
Before long an outgoing tide. Noticing that as time passed,
the waves no longer reaching the same distance, items washed in become still.
Drying in the heat of the baking sun above. No longer so rich in color. Left
behind. For now.
A horseshoe crab that washed up earlier. I watch as each
family who passed tried to save him. Placing him back into the edge of the water. Urging him to swim. Attached. Not wanting to
allow the death that was so clearly approaching. As the tide retracts he is
finally allowed to rest and be with whatever is to come. Not unlike dusk or the
fall which becomes winter.
Time passes. Only to begin all over again. Each day. Every
day. Every breath.
I watch my feet, since where they are, is where I am. Here.
Now. Perfect.
Beachcombing,
SARAH
SARAH
Reiki
Those who come, tend to come back......
Come spend an hour with me.
Still $40 so you can experience it.
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