Shells in a Bottle

When I was at one of the darkest periods of my life—I used to go to the beach to sit and think. I’d sift through the sand while I was sitting there and end up with a handful of those little, tiny shells that are so common. Somehow they became important to keep...reminders...

...that little things of beauty exist all around us even when we don’t see them at first;

...that even when buffeted by something as huge and powerful as the ocean, they could still survive—intact;

...that even when we feel like we’re drowning, all of life is a journey and sometimes we just have to go with the flow and trust we’ll end up on dry land eventually;

...that I really loved the ocean because it is an eternal creation that is renewed constantly—and I could always go again.


I started keeping the shells in a little bottle on my desk at work—it sat there for years. I could pick it up and roll the shells around—rediscovering colors and shapes and remembering the taste of the salt in the air … and things would find a better perspective.

Now the bottle sits at home because I don’t need to see it every day. But I still take it off the shelf every now and then, and it makes me smile.