musings by the seaside 1

I keep a seashell by the sink … a visual reminder of the calm I find by the sea.  I love Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s musings … Gift from the Sea … 

But his shell — it is simple; it is bare, it is beautiful. Small, only the size of my thumb, its architecture is perfect, down to the finest detail. Its shape, swelling like a pear in the center, winds in a gentle spiral to the pointed apex. Its color, dull gold, is whitened by a wash of salt from the sea. Each whorl, each faint knob, each criss-cross vein in its egg-shell texture, is as clearly defined as on the day of creation. My eye follows with delight the outer circumference of that diminutive winding staircase up which this tenant used to travel.

My shell is not like this, I think. How untidy it has become! Blurred with moss, knobby with barnacles, its shape is hardly recognizable any more. Surely, it had a shape once. It has a shape still in my mind. What is the shape of my life? ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Musings by the Seaside 1

In the beginning, the alpha and omega
His paintbrush so vivid

                Deep, rich hues
                Blues, greens, whites,
                Endless, transparent, sparkling

The work of his hands
               Sculpting, rippling, swirling
               Molding, shaping
               Wings, fins, joints
               Scales, feather, shells

Diverse yet interrelated, interdependent
Seemingly mindless

And yet …
               What knowledge of the divine
               Permeates their existence
               Do they hear the still small voice
               Do their hearts leap within them in his presence

Can it be unknowingly they pay homage
To the creator by the sea
~orginal, 2008 

 

 


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