Transparent, beautiful , fragile

I'm a blessed woman. This has been a whirlwind of friends and food, a writer's workshop and a wedding.  All wild and wonderful.  There's all the Ws for today!

One more- wise friends asked me to come up to their house on Long Island Sound in East New Haven, CT.  It's a luxury to have a quiet space to process all I learned at the workshop and reflect on the wedding. And write.

With all this travel this year, I haven't done the writing I'd like to be doing so this few days is so worth the drive up through New York City.  The house is full of windows and light and the water crashes ever so gently on the sand outside the patio doors. I see lots of shutters for the winter so clearly the water isn't always sedate but this is the gentle season.

I love to walk along water, especially water with seashells. As a family, we lived near beaches for many years. I have seashells I've collected—tiny, perfect specimens of Pacific shells from Okinawa and sea glass from the Isle of Capri.  But today I found something new- fragile, translucent mollusks. They have the official name of Anomia simplex but the author I read called them "jingle shells". They are used in jewelry making and wind chimes.  I just loved their colors of peach and yellow and gold and orange.

      As the sun set, the sea reminded me of the bowl of a peachy jingle shell. 

Why did my eye go to jingle shells? Why not sturdy clam shells or curled up whelks?

As I walked, I reflected on the last few weeks- visits with old friends, creative time with new ones. The many meals and gifts I've been given and kind words spoken.
I'm feeling loved and affirmed.  And a little fragile.

Why do I, perhaps that can be a we—why do we doubt our strengths, distrust satisfaction and contentment?  Why do I look over my shoulder and wonder when the next crisis will crash into my tender world?

I think I want to stride through this good, green earth with confident stomps and howl with big belly laughs of joy. But instead, I tiptoe with awe and wonder but also with a touch of trepidation. How long can this bliss last?

These shells are created thin and fragile.

This morning's find is sea glass, trashed bottles sandblasted by the sea into smooth, safe bits of beauty. Their function long gone, their sharp edges ground down, their only role now is to be delightful and continue to return to the sand they were made from.

Perhaps that's what a crisis does to me- grinds down another sharp edge, reminds me to bring a little light into the world,  returns me to the stuff I was made from.  Not a bad lesson from sea glass or from life.