Broken Shells

As I sat Bonita Beach this morning, notebook and coffee in hand, the dolphins that came to say "hello" to my friend and I the month before were absent. In their place were birds--pelicans, seagulls, sanderlings, and snowy egrets--on the shore and bobbing in shallow waters, grabbing their morning meal. I started writing in my journal as the waves crashed on the shore, the cool breeze licking my arms, the sun warming my shoulders.

My writing complete, I dug my toes into the shell-strewn sand and started to observe my surroundings more closely. More birds--and more people--had congregated. A few joggers went by. A couple of elderly ladies caught my attention with their sweatsuits, visors, tennis shoes. Their stroll was slow and purposeful, their glances fixed on the ground ahead of them, a plastic Publix bag sagging with seashells. As they ambled by, they debated if what they plucked from the sand was worthy of being tossed in the grocery bag, destined for some jar on the back of their toilets or some bowl in the center of their coffee tables.

"They're all worthy!" I wanted to call out. "Even the broken ones."

Those broken shells once served a purpose, provided shelter for some creature, protected it from the elements and its predators. We've all built shells of our own, but eventually the surface wears away, a hole opens, exposing us to the things we had been hiding from. Our barrier is breached, and we are vulnerable. Or, we outgrow the confines of its walls, feel it squeezing the life out of us. In either scenario, we instinctively know we must evacuate to find a new domain. But, that original shell remains a part of us, no matter how far away we travel.

After she carefully inspects it, one of the ladies tosses the shell she's holding back on the ground. She walks away in search of a specimen that is worthy, her friend by her side. I decide to collect a few shells of my own--3 to be exact--but I'm not looking for the picture perfect ones. I'm looking for the beautifully broken ones.

I never want to forget this: We've all been the creature in the shell, but we've also been the discarded shell. Both are important. Both are necessary.

From that last word came this acrostic poem. The verbs make it a call to action. It was written from the bottom up, but can be read both ways.

Necessary

Nourish your spirit.
Elevate the ordinary.
Create the life you want.
Expect your dreams to come to fruition.
Sense the divine in the everyday.
Savor the moments meant just for you.
Appreciate the beauty surrounding you.
Realize today is a gift.
Yield to a greater force.




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