Hunting for sea glass is a therapeutic activity not only for myself but also for the young people we work with. Perhaps part of it is the meditative state it induces; hunting for sea glass requires a lot of concentration. Squinting to ask, “Is that bit sea glass… or sea lettuce?” as you sift your hands through the grains.
Yet, I think part of it is also in the journey of transformation that the glass shards go through in their dance through the briny depths of the ocean.
They start as jagged and rough pieces, but as they weather through time and tide, they turn into something beautiful; jewel-like and rounded. In the same way, life shapes us; softens our edges. Like the movement of the waves, every obstacle that we face adds to who we are. A small piece of sea glass may have withstood a hundred years of storms and winters to become a piece that a child picks up and says, ‘Wow, come over here and look at this one!’
Stood on the sea shore hunting for this treasure, we are reminded of the infinite capacity for growth and transformation that we each carry within ourselves. Like the sea glass, we are at once both fragile and strong, each obstacle contributing to the mosaic of ourselves.
Working with children, I will often remark on this change, commenting that sometimes the pieces that have been through the hardest journeys are the most beautiful. If we had picked it up in a car park, would we feel the same? Why is it that we feel it’s more special when it has been in the sea?