Morning of Zen

Every now and again we have one of those moments of peace and serenity that reminds us how great life really is. Yesterday was one such moment for me...

Ive been in Florida for about 2.5 months now looking for work, without any success yet. Being the moody person I am, my unemployment has taken me on the depression roller coaster a few times. That being said, I got a call back from PriceWaterhouseCooper for a second interview on Monday. By itself that was enough to put a giddy smile on my face, but I wanted to revel in it. Picking up my journal I walked down to the beach, which is maybe 100 yards from my front door.

It was early morning, the sun had been up for maybe an hour or so, and there was the slightest nip to the air reminding me that Fall was here. The tide was out, exposing a shimmering expanse of sand and shells down to the waters edge, where tiny waves gently lapped. Of special note to me was the small sandbar that was exposed maybe ten feet from the shore; I had never seen or known it to be there. The bar itself was covered by few dozen gulls, a handfull of sandpipers, and what I thought was a booby (although he could have been a really big gull). Pelicans wheeled overhead, some diving down into the water to catch an unlucky fish. In the background I could hear crows cawing, which carried much further than the creeling of the seagulls. All of this was of course set to the beat of the surf.

Walking to the waters edge, I squatted down in ankle-deep water to enjoy the scene. The gulls didnt stir, but a few kept a watch on me. A group of sandpipers came trotting down the beach, their long legs reminding me of roadrunners. Every now and again one would stop and pick at an unseen morsel that rolled up with the water. They came right at me, made a semi-circle around my crouched position, and kept on their way.

The water behind the sandbar was relatively calm, the waves mainly dissipating before reaching that far. This led to a level of clarity that I had not seen before. The sand in this part of Florida tends to be very fine, almost silt like, with pieces of broken shell dispersed throughout. Looking into the calm shallows I noticed a brown conch shell, about four inches long, and reached for it. I typically find old, broken and bleached conches here, but this one appeared to be in one piece! And it was, because it was still alive, much to my surprise. The little sea snail had pulled himself into his shell when I picked him up, so I quickly redeposited him, meaning no harm. Casting my gaze further about in the water, I could see half a dozen similarly sized conches. The best part of it, I could actually see them moving; they didnt glide along like I thought, but rather tugged themselves forward an inch at a time. It made me wonder how long it took them to inch their way to the shore, and whether they were always there, normally just out of sight.

Remembering my journal, I left the waters edge and sat in the sand with the morning sun at my back...