I've subscribed to a few blogs lately. Some bloggers keep up daily! And when I read them, I have vast appreciation for the discipline they are showing. Then I feel like a slacker, and now that the feeling has built up enough momentum, here I am with a post.
I'm thinking about seashells, and they seem loaded with symbolism today. Yes, they're pretty, almost endlessly fascinating in their variety of shape and color, their grace of form. However, right now I have the sense that I should grind them into powder rather than admire them. Why? Because they are, essentially, memorials to a phase of life that's over. And as I look upon their delicate, calcified shapes, I am thinking about the lives that outgrew them, about the creatures that moved on, choosing life instead of stagnating within a shell that no longer fit.
Seashells rest upon
ever-shifting shores of sand--
and life keeps moving.
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