We stopped for lunch in a surfer’s cafe in Rhosneigr very close to the sea. Once refreshed we were to go down to the beach to choose a stone for a simple but moving ritual at our final destination. Two of us left as soon as we had eaten. I live about as far from the sea as you can get in Britain and seldom get the chance to play on beaches, so take any opportunity I can get to be close to the waves.
The sun was already low in the the sky, but still it felt like spring. My companion declined my offer to have a paddle whilst the others finished lunch, which was probably sensible, if disappointing. It was December after all and although the unusually mild weather was balmy, doubtless the sea would have proved to be a more wintry environment. Instead, we watched the sun sparkle on the water, reflecting the heavens on earth.
We started looking for our pebbles, drawn to the white ones as much for their symbolism as for the fact that they draw the eye. Working with the symbolism of the School, we had a fair idea of what would be required and why. We looked too at the curious formation of the blue-black rocks. Some of the rocks that emerge through the sand go back to the Pre-Cambrian era that began four and a half billion years ago and you can see the folds created by pressure as the earth, as we know it, began to shape itself.
It is a curious feeling to consciously stand with such an unimaginable span of time beside the ceaseless motion of the sea. Beneath our feet, the sand, each grain formed from what has gone before…and in it, our footprints. The marks of our presence are deep enough to raise ridges and cast shadows. Each foot that passes leaves its unique imprint, changing the surface utterly… for a little while. The marks are as transient as our little lives upon the earth and are soon erased by the movement of the waters that shift and shape the land.
We were soon joined by our companions and spent a little while, each of us, searching for our stones. I would have happily pottered on the beach all afternoon at any other time, examining stones and exclaiming at the beauty of the shells… listening to the cry of the gulls. There is something about the seashore that awakens the inner child. Perhaps it is because where sky, land and sea meet and we become children again as our Mother looks on and feel secure in Her presence.
It was, therefore, with a mixture of reluctance and excitement that we left the beach behind us. We had one more site to visit before our final destination of the day and it was a rather special one. We drove to a deserted bay as the shadows grew longer and the winter afternoon drew towards its close, bathing the world in golden light…
That last photo is stunning.
It really is a beautiful island, Mary.
Such beautiful photos, Sue! I miss living near the ocean so very much – it feels strange not to be able to go to the beach when I want to. Like you, I can spend hours just walking and sitting and looking for stones. It looks to have been a lovely weekend 🙂
We were blessed with perfect weather, which always helps..and it is such a beautiful place. 🙂 I do wish the sea were closer to home here. I’ve never really lived close, but somehow this feels a very long way from the sea here.
Yes, the weather does help, I agree, though I do find the coast beautiful in any sort of weather 🙂 And this does feel so far from the ocean…
Yes, so do I…and it does 🙂
Perfect pictures in perfect weather 🙂 I especially like the last photo you added. It is something amazing.
Thanks, it was a beautiful day 🙂
How strange that yesterday as I was doing my meditation over my Amarex, the most interesting chain of events happened, just as this one that was written about came to pass. Sometimes the connections between things, events, and people are rather astounding. Some of this is from my daily journal, and i hope that it is acceptable to repeat it for others to read. Your post is beautiful and there is so much depth of meaning beyond the surface.
One of the things I have been doing is reading one of Don Massenzio’s new books in Beta version for free in exchange for answering questions about the book, which has been an enjoyable task. The reason I am mentioning this is that in one part of the book, he mentions Johann Gottlieb Fichte’s book, The Vocation of Man. What I loved is that Fichte noted that moving a single grain of sand in the past could exponentially change subsequent events from that point forward. I thought about this and how true it is that every single seemingly insignificant event in our lives does seem to change events in our lives inexplicably.
As I thought of your accounting of seeking the stones, and of the waves coming and going out, and then your further journey to the little sheltered bay, there was the symbolism of the stones, so full of perhaps centuries of changes and yet, appearing so solid and unchanged. As the water comes in, it brings with it many grains of sands, some of which will ultimately join together with other grains or perhaps rocks, changing forever the very nature of both.
The people have come together and then they leave for the other location, and then when that time is spent, they will separate once more and become separate parts of the whole. What an amazing world. It is odd how sometimes the seemingly smallest of things brings such a wealth of feeling. Thank you kindly for sharing your post.
My son and I were speaking about this only yesterday in a slightly different context; how society and posterity values each experience and each human being differently. The great scientist or artist may be valued more highly by both than the vagrant who sleeps under the bridge… yet we cannot know how much a person is truly worth in the chain of events that spread acorss millennia. It may only take a word from the tramp, or an act of kindness shown to him, to change the direction of another life and thus change the world forever… and we would never know. No moment, no human being, no life is ‘worth more’ than another… we simply cannot see their place in the tapestry.