While strolling along the beach today at Mickler’s Landing at Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida, I looked upward and onward, hearing the roll and thunder of the three-to-four foot waves. I glance down to see that which crunches under my feet, step after step.
I begin watching my steps and wonder how old these various size shells are and from where did they come to surrender to this part of the world. I wonder.
Take a look. What do you see? Colors, sizes, shapes, forms, weathered, incomplete, complete, broken, unbroken, evidence of being tossed around by the waves.
I sort of feel sorry for these shells. (Okay, I’m still sane believe it or not.) They are the remains of something that lived and now only the shell of a life exists.
When I step on them – what will become of them? Will they become tiny fragments and no longer resemble the beauty they once portrayed?
How are our shell-tered lives? I know many of us have lived sheltered lives when we were growing up and even into adulthood. Have we ventured out? Have we taken the risk? Are we living or just existing?
Life in this current arena is too short for us not to enjoy every day of it while breaking from the shell and taking a little risk. We have become un”shell”tered so to speak. We are now responsible for our own decisions and success in life.
How about the shell we left behind? At some point we must realize the shell has served its purpose and now exists for others to enjoy – yet we can apply the same mission to our own lives – to help others along the way and realize the greater meaning of our own lives.
I’ll share some more thoughts on this subject in the upcoming blogs. I welcome your thoughts as well.