Broken shells

What is it about the beach that gets people, and especially Floridians, to engage in introspection, reflection, etc.?

I found myself in that situation this afternoon as I combed the beach at Barefoot Trace.

I really enjoy combing the sands for shells over there, and have to admit that it's gotten a little out of hand. I really need to be more discriminating when it comes to adding to my burgeoning collection.

So, nowadays when I go on my expeditions, I try to give myself rules. Like, "OK, today you're just going to pick up white shells." Or, "Only looking for nautilus shells."

Today's assignment came sorta by accident. The first shell I came across was a damaged shell of some unknown species. Broken but still intriguing. I really enjoyed trying to imagine what it looked like when it was whole. And, am still trying to figure out what the species is.

Thus today's assingment, "Only the unusual, and preferably broken."

As I was adding to the bucketful, I got to thinking how this bunch of shells is a lot of like people. None of us are perfect. We've all been tossed around. But, if you really think about it, you can imagine how what's left of us is still part of a bigger, more perfect whole.

So much for the deep thoughts. I'm supposed to be enjoying some time off at the beach. Perhaps, I've been enjoying myself too much, and all this philosophical talk is all attributable to those two margaritas . . .