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Jenifer’s Journal: Gifts from the sea

My life is like a stroll upon the beach, as near to the ocean’s edge as I can go. — Henry David Thoreau

Even with the addition of that “s,” in the headline of this column, it may still seem as if I’m exploiting the name of Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s iconic little book, “Gift from the Sea.”  But the fact is, I couldn’t think of a better headline. We live on an island, after all, where many pleasures and pursuits are sea-centric, and can involve fancy equipment and fancier boats. However, high on the list of those “best things in life” of the variety celebrated in that old song, would have to be beach-walking in all seasons, most weathers and all gratis.

I love walking on the beach if only because of how it smells, how it sounds and where it is, on that narrow edge between two worlds. Of course, if I am walking there, I’ll likely look down occasionally to scan the rock population — kind of like window shopping — to see if something catches my eye. And that could be for any reason, a shape, a color, a texture or lack of it, or mica, yes, I’m a fool for glitter. 

It’s a mystery, really, as well as a pretty profound metaphor, that one stone, a “rock in the crowd,” as it were, would lead anyone to choose it out of the countless number of stones lying there. What makes it the chosen one? That’s the thing, isn’t it?  In fact, I’ve come to believe that nothing reveals personal tastes quite like the choices we make while beach-walking. It’s like a department store in that regard; beach glass, driftwood, old bottles, shells, on and on. Something for everyone.  

Assuming you’ve been beach walking recently, what have you found yourself picking up? Of course, I’m mostly a stone and rock person. The problem is, once I pick up a stone, it’s hard to put it down. I’m afraid I developed a bit of an addiction for a while. I rarely returned from a beach-walk with less than three or four new additions. Odd how quickly window sills, mantles, kitchen counters, coffee tables, porch steps, car floors, etc., can fill up with beach bounty.

A few years ago, trying to act more responsibly, I began to reintroduce some of my rocks back into the wild. I’m afraid there are an awful lot of feral rocks out there now. It makes me feel a little guilty. I should’ve tagged them so, on the off-chance I recaptured one, I wouldn’t take it home with me again. That would be awkward.

In my “research,” I discovered that beach-walking is quite distinct from its first cousin, “beachcombing.” When I could find very little on the latter, I Googled the former and, wow, beachcombing is big! Lots of articles, magazines and YouTube videos are dedicated to it. It seems much more goal-oriented than its quiet, retiring relative. Yes, the objects of desire are the same — stones, shells, etc. — but while the walker sees them more as gifts, to the serious comber, I think they seem more like prey.

I remember as a summer kid, specifically searching for jingle shells, those little pearlescent cups of gold or silver, to string together to make necklaces and bracelets. I displayed them across the sandy expanse of the old wicker table on the porch of our house in Silver Beach and let my mother take her pick. That was more of a business venture, I guess. The closest I ever came to really focused “combing” was during my N.O.H.S. (Naturally Occurring Heart Shapes) period, when over a span of a year or two I curated quite a collection of stone hearts (I hope that’s not a metaphor). 

Eventually, though, I returned to the luxury of unfocused beach-walking where stones and shells found me, somehow, rather than vice versa. I’m with Anne Morrow Lindbergh when, in “Gift from the Sea,” she writes: “But [gifts] must not be sought for or — heaven forbid! — dug for. No, no dredging of the sea bottom here. That would defeat one’s purpose. The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient.

To dig for treasure shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should [be] empty, open, choiceless as a beach — waiting for a gift from the sea.”

What would she say about those combers with metal-detectors? But then, I have to confess, I don’t have “patience” down yet, and I have dug for treasure more than once; that’s another column.

The time is now perfect for anyone, any age, to get out to a beach, to walk or comb, and find gifts.

I’d love to hear from you — thoughts, complaints, ideas, favorite quotes, etc., all gratefully accepted. Please e-mail me at [email protected].