Beach Glass and Beginner’s Mind
Last week as I walked White Horse Beach, I met an older man walking in the opposite direction. He asked, “What are you picking up?” “Beach glass,” I grinned as I rattled my treasures in my pocket. Newly arrived in the area, I was a collecting newbie and delighting in all the beach glass I was finding amidst the thousands of smooth, beautiful rocks of Mother Nature’s gigantic, melodic polisher.
The Irish brogue with which he spoke was almost as smoothly polished as the rocks at our feet; only a hint of its original form remained. He informed me that he’d had a home on this beach for years and went on to say that finding beach glass now was nothing like it had been years ago. “There used to be so much of it and in so many marvelous colors.” He showed me the two small pieces he’d picked up that afternoon. I extended my hand where at least twenty pieces glistened in the sun.
Shortly afterward, we parted and I continued my walk, now musing on our conversation. Aha! A lesson in the utility of a fresh start, of being in the state of beginner’s mind. I, not contaminated by previous experience or expectations, was finding many, many pieces of beach glass. Every time I return home, I have a big handful of beach glass. My gentleman approached his beach glass search from the mindset of comparison, not expecting to find much glass. And he didn’t. Wow! What a lesson in the power of expectations and the value of approaching everything with a fresh start attitude.
I spent the last week, celebrating my 65th birthday, a significant birthday in our communal experience. I have never been 65 before. What a grand opportunity to declare a fresh start. Circumstances are so right. I’m in a new home where I listen to the sound of the surf as I fall asleep and beside which I walk every day. The beach reminds me that a fresh start exists in every moment. Here for a month now, the beach is always different, waves higher or lower, water color tinted a different shade of blue, green, or gray, tide rising or falling, surf sounds a quiet thump or a magnificent roar.
I have decided to pretend that ever day is the first day of my life. The red-wing blackbirds singing in my other’s tree sounded exceptionally delightful. I stopped to appreciate and admire the dripping icicles wetly shimmering in the early morning sunlight on her rosebush. I savored the feel of March sunlight on my back as I walked up the hill and the push of an aggressive wind that shoved me along the beach this afternoon. I am noticing more now that I get multiple fresh starts every day.
I am also free from the Lyme disease caught on my Appalachian Trail solo through-hike in 2000 and the excruciating pain of trigeminal neuralgia that I suffered for so long. For the first time in years I am confident that my body will cooperate with my longing to hike, bike, swim, and run. I feel the excitement that I felt 30 or more years ago when I began my life as an athlete. It’s all brand new again; once more I explore the delights of my activities without preconception of how I “should be” performing. My yoga practice is so helpful in my ability to stay mindful, in the moment, and conscious of each moment even each breath, as a fresh start. I love the newly returned strength and grace of my body.
I am doing an inventory; what ideas, thoughts, beliefs, and feelings have generated the results or experiences I want? What, in my new life, do I want to spend my time, energy, thoughts, and money on? How can I spend more time with my beautiful GRANDdaughters whose very being exudes fresh start? Fresh start is contagious; how do I spend more time with friends of any age from whom I can catch more of it? Where to put the post-its in my house and calendar to create a visual reminder that I am brand-new in this life, every moment is a fresh start?
When I forget to have beginner’s mind and become aware that I need a new fresh start, I have just the anthem. As I came down the stairs this morning, shortly after my morning ritual of standing at the window and breathing in the ocean, I found myself singing, “I’ll pick myself up, brush myself off, and start all over again.”
Last week as I walked White Horse Beach, I met an older man walking in the opposite direction. He asked, “What are you picking up?” “Beach glass,” I grinned as I rattled my treasures in my pocket. Newly arrived in the area, I was a collecting newbie and delighting in all the beach glass I was finding amidst the thousands of smooth, beautiful rocks of Mother Nature’s gigantic, melodic polisher.
The Irish brogue with which he spoke was almost as smoothly polished as the rocks at our feet; only a hint of its original form remained. He informed me that he’d had a home on this beach for years and went on to say that finding beach glass now was nothing like it had been years ago. “There used to be so much of it and in so many marvelous colors.” He showed me the two small pieces he’d picked up that afternoon. I extended my hand where at least twenty pieces glistened in the sun.
Shortly afterward, we parted and I continued my walk, now musing on our conversation. Aha! A lesson in the utility of a fresh start, of being in the state of beginner’s mind. I, not contaminated by previous experience or expectations, was finding many, many pieces of beach glass. Every time I return home, I have a big handful of beach glass. My gentleman approached his beach glass search from the mindset of comparison, not expecting to find much glass. And he didn’t. Wow! What a lesson in the power of expectations and the value of approaching everything with a fresh start attitude.
I spent the last week, celebrating my 65th birthday, a significant birthday in our communal experience. I have never been 65 before. What a grand opportunity to declare a fresh start. Circumstances are so right. I’m in a new home where I listen to the sound of the surf as I fall asleep and beside which I walk every day. The beach reminds me that a fresh start exists in every moment. Here for a month now, the beach is always different, waves higher or lower, water color tinted a different shade of blue, green, or gray, tide rising or falling, surf sounds a quiet thump or a magnificent roar.
I have decided to pretend that ever day is the first day of my life. The red-wing blackbirds singing in my other’s tree sounded exceptionally delightful. I stopped to appreciate and admire the dripping icicles wetly shimmering in the early morning sunlight on her rosebush. I savored the feel of March sunlight on my back as I walked up the hill and the push of an aggressive wind that shoved me along the beach this afternoon. I am noticing more now that I get multiple fresh starts every day.
I am also free from the Lyme disease caught on my Appalachian Trail solo through-hike in 2000 and the excruciating pain of trigeminal neuralgia that I suffered for so long. For the first time in years I am confident that my body will cooperate with my longing to hike, bike, swim, and run. I feel the excitement that I felt 30 or more years ago when I began my life as an athlete. It’s all brand new again; once more I explore the delights of my activities without preconception of how I “should be” performing. My yoga practice is so helpful in my ability to stay mindful, in the moment, and conscious of each moment even each breath, as a fresh start. I love the newly returned strength and grace of my body.
I am doing an inventory; what ideas, thoughts, beliefs, and feelings have generated the results or experiences I want? What, in my new life, do I want to spend my time, energy, thoughts, and money on? How can I spend more time with my beautiful GRANDdaughters whose very being exudes fresh start? Fresh start is contagious; how do I spend more time with friends of any age from whom I can catch more of it? Where to put the post-its in my house and calendar to create a visual reminder that I am brand-new in this life, every moment is a fresh start?
When I forget to have beginner’s mind and become aware that I need a new fresh start, I have just the anthem. As I came down the stairs this morning, shortly after my morning ritual of standing at the window and breathing in the ocean, I found myself singing, “I’ll pick myself up, brush myself off, and start all over again.”
posted by Rita Losee, Woman of Adventure, Doctor of Success | 1:42 PM
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