Seashells

Disclaimer:  As of late, I have become obsessed with Jane Austen, and her genius writing style, specifically in her novel Pride and Prejudice.  I believe her to be a true artist with her use of words and descriptions. She has the ability to make writing clean, digestable, and enjoyable for the reader.  So pardon my use of language which may be close to antiquity, for from hither I have decided to include said language, lest it expire completely!

 

Upon the sun's awakening, Matthew and I made our merry way to the beach.  We have acclimated quite well to the heat, as we are nearing a complete week which lacked any sort of air conditioning.  Our skin has healed, so we were ready to expose our bodies, once again, to the fierce rays of the sun.  We spent a good part of the morning watching the tide.  On its way toward the shore, it exposed and carried a number of seashells, and on its way back out to sea it hid them once more.  With close attention paid, and with close accuracy, one can dive his hand into the water and fetch a seashell.  Doing so became the amusement of the morning, persisting into the early afternoon.  We ended up with quite a few seashells; alas, space upon us for said collection is limited, and only the finest, most interesting shells could be borrowed from the sea.  The remaining unselected shells were re-gifted back to the sea.  So came the afternoon sun, also came time for reflection and thought.  My mind returned to one of my favorite books, Walden, by Thoreau.  Only after several weeks of living on the edge of a pond called Walden, does Thoreau truly become aware of the exquisiteness it beholds.  In turn, he writes a whole chapter in his book, seemingly awe-struck by this pond, which had been so casually mentioned and discussed before.  My eyes now fixated upon the Mediteranean Sea, I became conscious of how I am so near a grandeur place upon this earth, and I had yet to let my vision truly take it in.   How beautiful something is if you gaze at it long enough to appreciate the intricacy it may possess. How much you deny your spirit to experience if you let your mind wonder elsewhere beyond the fleeting present moment. 

 

That is all I wish to share.  Until we meet again, farewell.