One of the sure places to come face to face with your place in the Universe is when you stand on the shore of an ocean. I began my morning standing on the beach looking out at the endless horizon as waves made their way toward my minute presence. High tide had receded by about two hours so the gifts of that morning’s sea riddled the sand beneath my feet. Stones of a myriad of colors. Seaweed and kelp. Shells, both intact and broken. And, thankfully, only a few pieces of garbage returned from the careless toss of someone who had momentarily forgotten their role as steward. Sandpipers skittered across the dark, wet sand while overhead gulls and pelicans soared into the morning sunlight. The humans who made their way in the evolving light were mere actors in a play so vast we had barely remembered our lines, if we had ever known them. Over and over,the waves continued to roll sending sparkling spray that was nearly invisible into the blue of the sky. Squinting, I tried to commit to memory this scene.
Once, years ago, I had what can only be described as a mystical experience on this very beach. It had been a troubled year filled with illness, surgery and fear. I stood in the morning light much like this morning’s staring out at the sea rolling toward me. I stood trying to take in the beauty, the power. And then someplace deep within me a voice not my own spoke confidently: “This is the Womb of God.” I remember being shaken by the message so much so that tears ran down my cheeks. Only my young sons were with me and they were busy playing in the sand and surf, collecting shells and stones to fill their burgeoning pockets. The other adults had made their way on down the beach. No one heard this message but me and my experience stayed secret for some time. I simply did not know what to make of it. I only knew it was significant and it brought me a comfort and assurance I could not describe.
I walked into the rest of that day with an assurance I had not had in some time. I was connected to something so large I could not name it or find words to tell others. The waves that swept toward the shore that morning held and continue to hold me in the Mystery that brought me life and renews my life with the waxing and waning of the Moon and the rising of each day. I can’t be sure what the meaning of that message was, I only know it brought me an enormous gift. A gift that felt like promise, connection, and perhaps even resurrection.
Returning to the beach this morning I was reminded once again of how small my story is in the grand telling of this Life Story of which we are all a part. We are woven together with earth, water, air and the warming fire of the Sun. We are walking beaches and mountains, roads and river paths in partnership with those we know and those we will never meet. We continue to live our lives in their uniqueness and their similarities held on this spinning planet by gravity and the sheer force of will. We are minuscule and yet we long to live large, to find our place in the patterns and the chaos. All the while, I believe, that Mystery which whispers in our ear and sometimes roars in our hearts is reaching out to speak volumes to us. If we have the ears to hear.
