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Archive for March, 2009

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http://www.seaglassgirl.wordpress.com by christine white is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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The wind doesn’t care that the calendar has called spring. Wind whips and my ears are tea kettles. Icy water and sea foam crash on shore. In red wool gloves and a scarf, layer upon layer of shirt, sweater and hooded wool coat the wind clings to my skin. My ears and mouth feel like Popsicles.

The water is raging, defiant, glorious, persistent and unwavering. I come to her this morning as some go to church to pray. Instead of bending to light a candle and send up my prayer I bend to gather sea glass. I am grateful to be slapped alive and awake despite my exhaustion. I have the relief of a mother who has seen her daughter through a high fever and can now take a deep breath.

I am a writer thanking her muse because I have finished a book proposal and launched it off and into the world. Will it be a sailboat spinning in a tub as a toy or a carrier delivering cargo to others? I only write and can’t claim to know that future. I am grateful to be finished, to have that project out of my hands, to say for today my work is done.

Broken plates and chunks of glass sew my spirit, mend my mind and pound my ego into manageable size. One ceramic piece is a triangle shape with three arrows pointing up and two triangles pointing towards the center. Huge chunks of green and purple as well as rounded whites and deep dark greens.

I hand hug each piece and love none behind except those capable of cutting. But even those dangerous pieces I hold in my heart before walking on. I leave them in the hands of Mother Nature who will pour sea salt and claim them back to her center. She will give them more time to become.

It is too cold to stay. A heart-shaped rock for my daughter is a find. I head home and as soon as I walk the stares and turn the corner the sun throws down a blanket of warmth and light. I am thawing.

Catch of the Day: Gratitude for health and the mystery of the ocean who claims all pieces with equal regard, considers all glass in process and transformation.

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You pick it up.  

Perhaps you found it on the shore line or lodged between rocks and shells.

It’s light purple, sugar coated white or deep green.

It’s your discovery and you don’t know the origin, the first shape or form.

Still you hold it, palm it and press it to your flesh. 

Did it travel miles or decades?

Was it an exile or an explorer?

Was it floating away from an island or swimming towards this place?

Does it matter?

What hue are you today on this journey?

Are you resting as a vacationer on a calm bed of sand

or thrashing in the waves trying not to panic in a rip tide? 

And do the answers matter?

Will you take that piece into your home no matter how little you know

because you love what you hold today?

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