I had one thought as I headed to the beach for a 20-minute power stint of sea glass hunting and it was, “I got to get purple sea glass.” Well, there were a few thoughts. “Maybe there will be a big purple, or a dark purple or many small but varied shades. I hope I get some purple. I could really use some purple. I’m low on purple. People love purple.”
The seagull on the sand didn’t even move, the obsessing in my mind only loud to me. The waves, gentle and soft, took turns riding the tide and made way for the bigger and louder ones crashing behind them. The sand was wet and I had to hopscotch on the rocks to get to the beach without going for an unintended swim. I was hurrying with my mission in mind.
I found several brown pieces. Two were round and oft and one had three gentle lines in the corner. They looked like guitar pics that played against barnacles. The others, six or so, all variations of a triangle.
Still, I wanted purple and I have a reputation of spotting the frosty big pieces from a distance. But nothing.
There were white pieces, seeming naked on large patches of sand, alone as though I caught them getting out of the shower before they had towels, the dryness of sun or the cover or dirt. One was ragged, almost sharp and clear, the type I normally bury so the sea can do her “cooking” and work. But it was so worn on one edge it’s a great educational piece for showing the transformation of broken bottle to sea glass.
I caught the lop of a bottle, a small edge, and a thick white piece resembling a small perched bird, the lines etched in glass were like feathers, as though it were perched on a limb, like the sea gull, but wanting to be caught.
I found a piece of driftwood, t-shaped, a tiny remnant of something nailed together in a haphazard way, looking like a mini sign you’d see up on a trees in a cottage town telling vacationers which road to go down or where their campsite might be.
At the farmer’s market in Hingham, there are people who come only to talk sea glass, who empty pockets from a morning hunt, and say, “See, this is what I found today.” People who also walk the shores regularly and who want to share the passion. Many wish to make use of their piles, others are happy to pile and fill and jars and vases.
I am green, green in my passion as I am only a little over a year into this obsession. The greens elude me this morning on the shore. I find a few aqua pieces though, they are soft and thin, They will rest easy and flat on a neck. I am happy.
I head for home realxed. The sun has been bearing down on the base of my back and the nape of my neck. “The ocean doesn’t do special orders,” I think as i laugh at myself, thinking I can call up some purple to the sand I have full pockets and am reminded of the times in life I have missed what is right before me, stepping over gems, sure what I wanted and needed could only be found in a specific place, person or color. How many times have I missed the aqua and white, the brown and the driftwood seeking with desperation only for purple.
The ocean, like God, life, other people, don’t take special orders, but they always deliver. It is me who needs to put aside my desire, the thoughts that say, “only this will work” which keeps me wound too tight to open to other possibilities. I am grateful for the lessons as much as the sea glass itself which I cherish. Returning, I will keep returning and am so lucky for that as well.
I see a sliver of purple, a triangle, smooth on one side and bumpy on half of the other. It looks exactly like a sail boat with arms open wide to the sea and wind. The bottom, curved, a base. I will keep this piece to remind me that I don’t get to decide what to call up from the ocean but I can be open to seeing what arrives.
Catch of the Day: Not getting “enough” of what I thought I needed.
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SEA GLASS ARTS with Sea Glass Girl 