Shell Seeker

I am reminded this morning of an old image that my wife and I have always cherished. Once upon a hazy morning by the seaside I sat for an hour or more observing as my daughter, who was quite young at the time, gathered shells and shiny stones by shore. It was a time of reflection set in the midst of a busy period of work and parenting. On that particular morning all she wanted to do was wander aimlessly along the sand and collect the assorted natural trinkets which generally only have value to a child. Yet, as I watched her I began to realize how little many of my own material desires and possessions were really worth. Indeed, we adults squander much of our lives collecting and paying for trinkets which, in the larger picture, are as worthless as the bucket of shells my daughter was so proud of. She, in her own childish way, saw the beauty in the simplest objects in nature and I daresay that they brought her more joy than much of what I had worked so hard to purchase. I learned a valuable lesson that day, through the wisdom of child whose capacity for joy and wonder greatly exceeded my own.

Such moments have helped to slowly bend my own value system so that I better understand what really matters in life. There are times when I am driven to sacrifice for the wrong things and work too hard to keep up with the Jones’. Then I try to remember the great wisdom of a little girl who understood true beauty and who taught me that the world is filled with shiny stones whose value is often unrelated to their price. I can only hope that you have had someone young enough and wise enough in your own life to teach you such lessons … and that you were willing to listen. May your day be filled with the wonder of simple things.

Shell Seeker
Down where the water meets the sand
She wanders happily
In search of shells and stones
And other treasures from the sea
Each prize borne in a bucket
Swinging from her tiny hand
As I watch my young shell seeker
Finding treasure in the sand
She takes me back to sea shores
And lazy mornings long gone by
When I combed the shore for treasure
With the same look in my eye
And I realize that nothing
I have bought with what I've earned
Has more value than her treasures
And it's high time that I learned
To stop, from time to time
And hear the waves upon the shore
To feel the wind upon my face
And be a shell seeker once more
By Frank Carpenter ©