THE SEA, THE SEA, SHE BECKONS TO ME

It has always been my dream to watch the sunrise over the horizon of the ocean; so one perfectly lovely summer morning, I arose early to watch. The sky was already waking from a sleepy night for a hint of light was peeking through my window. Hurry, hurry, time is passing and the sunrise will not wait! It had been my desire to go to the sea to think, to feel, and to write.

Not wanting to miss a single ray of light from the rising sun, I walked briskly along the boardwalk. It was dusted with a layer of fine sand and stuck to the bottom of my feet. Tall grass swayed gently in the breeze and the meandering wooden fence sloped gently along the contour of the sand mounds which boarded the entrance of paradise. In the distance was the lovely view of the seascape and I could hear the thunder of the rolling waves. Oh my! I felt almost breathless as I considered the possibilities of inspiration, wonderment, and fulfillment which awaited me. There it was before me, a splendid array of color which was reflected on the surface of the ocean. It was simply beautiful and spectacular at the same time. To my surprise, a handful of people had also gathered to watch the sunrise. They were a distance down the beach and so I felt alone.

The sand looked warm and inviting, so off came my shoes so that I could feel it between my toes. I dug my feet into the sand and as the waves came toward me and then rolled back, the sand dissolved beneath my feet causing me to feel slightly dizzy. I felt like I was being pulled into the ocean. What fun! This beautiful picture of peace, tranquility, and serenity lasted for a long time. It felt surreal for I was truly living what I had dreamed of doing for so many years.

After a while, sea shells were deposited with each wave as it rolled in . They were, "Gifts From the Sea," just as Anne Morrow had promised. How could I resist? I simply had to have my gifts and so began gathering my own collection of shells.

I felt that I must tell my paper what my heart was feeling for I had anxiously waited for the moment when I could go to the sea to think, to feel, and to write. And so with paper and pen in hand, I began:

I have gone to the sea. I have collected my shells. "Her Majesty, the Deep," has flirted and tried to draw me in. She reaches with her foamy fingers and beckoned me into her belly. I wink back and am drawn further into the mesmerizing, flirtatious, beckoning of her majestic waves.

She teases me with her gifts as each wave lays on the shore the gifts which only she can bear. I quickly grab at them for her teasing ways will try to snatch them away from me. I have collected my treasures and my jar is full. I have selected the ones which please my eye and the others, I toss back.

My paper is moist, my pen skips a line, and the breeze causes the paper to flip. I have found much joy today and my dream to go to the sea has been fulfilled. The sea comes bearing gifts and I joyfully receive. But the sea, the sea, The taunting sea. She snatches the one, But leaves me three.

The breeze is gentle. The salty-sea air is cool. It is filled with moisture and I can feel the heaviness of it on my skin. Oh, the sea, the sea, she beckons to me.
(Unedited notes from my book "Finding Fulfillment" lpstirling)