It was a lovely early morning at Jax Beach on a warm and windy day. We arrived about 20 minutes before sunrise and walked south down the beach. It was obvious from the ledge formations of the sand that you can see above… that it had been a rough couple of days on the Atlantic. The sand ledges were about 2 feet tall and stretched on for what would be several city blocks… before there was a break where the water likely forced its way back into the ocean. In four years of walking this beach (even after hurricanes) we’d never seen anything like this.
Looking closely at the raw edges, you can see the layers of sand and crushed shells. To my untrained eye it looked very much like the layers of the Grand Canyon in miniature. And while on most of the mornings when we arrive to catch sunrise, I take dozens of pictures of the sun on the water… this morning I was mesmerized by the ledge.
It awakened in me an awareness of time and how it often passes so quickly that we barely notice. The exposed layers I was seeing had been there for quite a while. They had been built up slowly, imperceptibly even. They were there the last 10 or 20 times we walked that beach at sunrise, though they were unseen; covered over with soft sand. Unseen until the recent Atlantic storm tore at the shore with force — carved the sharp ledge — washing tons and tons of sand back into its bottom revealing what had been hidden.
And though I sensed both the passing of time and the fierce energy it took to create what I was looking at–that some would think of as devastation or just ugly–I saw beauty. This revealing, this new dimension that I’d never seen before on this beach was beautiful. (And I have a camera full of images to prove it!)
As we turned to walk back up the beach, the sun had just broken on the horizon. And as though I needed anything else to make this morning more enchanting… I noticed immediately that the sun in its low position was catching just the edge of the newly revealed ledge. The sun was not yet high enough to engulf the whole beach, the sandy part all the way back to the dunes which was still in pre-dawn light. But because the ledge was more wet than the rest of the sand… it glistened.
I’m wondering about the ledges we have in our lives. What are those things that have come to be through time or force (without permission) and are now a part of what we walk with daily? Do we simply rail against them, or can we be open to them? Are they only a foil to our otherwise stable life, or can we find beauty in them? What if we made it an intention to find the glistening edge of the ledges that have come to us? Might we find the gold?
Surely the ‘ledges’ that appear in our lives aren’t all magical. I have failed thus far to mention that because the ledge was a 2 foot drop before more sand and then the ocean… I couldn’t get to the water. If I jumped down, or even sat down to do that, I would not be able to get back up. I always have to consider how to undo any physical undertaking I am considering. Gratefully, after walking several hundred steps, we reached one of the openings where the stormy sea had washed over the ledge and collapsed it. It could have been otherwise. Could I still be open to their beauty if there was not a break?
You can tell from the last picture in the collage up top that Bear did not want to have anything to do with the ledge. It was so funny to watch him and Sam walk down the beach on two levels 😉 He liked the beach just fine when it was just a slight incline towards the water. This ‘new thing’ did not interest or attract him at all. All the same, our early morning walk reminded me to be intentionally open. To not steel myself against the new, invited or not. To be open even in less than desired circumstances to look for the good, the beautiful.
It’s very likely that the next time we go to the beach for sunrise, the ledge will be gone. But I will remember this unique morning, with its surprises, with its invitation to see more deeply, for a long time.
Blessings on your journey, Kathleen – thecelticmonk
The Celtic Monk Musings 