Sea Glass

I owe an apology to a friend in Maine. Two years ago as I was walking the beach at Prouts Neck, Maine with my friend, Madeline, and her husband, Ken, she hastened toward a spot on the beach to pick up a small blue glass shard that had been smoothed over by the ocean. She told me it was sea glass and blue is one of the rarest colors you can find. I was amazed that she could spot it at such a distance, but she was very satisfied. She told me all about it and I couldn't get my head around her fascination. She said, "you are underwhelmed, huh?" I was. I wasn't unimpressed with her ability to spot something that she found intriguing; I merely saw her find as a broken piece of glass.

A friend of mine was on retreat at Marie Joseph Spirituality Center in Maine one summer and his director told him to go look for sea glass as a way of getting his mind off the weighty worldly matters that beset him. He walked the beach for half an hour before he gave up. He had never seen sea glass before and did not know what to look for.

I have seen sea glass collections inside homes near the ocean. They are smooth by the ocean into smoky tints. The sand, rocks, and salt water quickly transform broken glasses into a soft-looking treasure. They have a soft look with pastel-like colors. Mostly, you find them in a collection in a person's bathroom near another collection of seashells. It is amazing how many people will decorate their bathrooms like an aquarium or like a seascape. I understand the water connection, but I seldom equate a bathroom with an ocean view. I think I hold a minority view judging by abundance of bathrooms dedicated to aquatic culture.

Well, as yesterday was a 60 degree day in Boston (Gloucester) with bright sunny skies, I went for a walk on the beach. I spotted a glass shard on the beach and said to myself, "This must be sea glass." It was a smoky white, stone-like piece of glass. I almost put it down, but saw another piece. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I noticed many other pieces of sea glass and I collected about 30 pieces in all. Some were clear, others white, many were green, and a few were brown. I even picked up a tiny cobalt blue piece - a gem in sea glass efforts. I seem to have an eye for spotting them.

I wondered where they came from and why there was so much of it around. It seems as if it is trash - broken bottles - beer and otherwise. I picked it up because even if it did not have a redeeming ascetic value, at least someone's foot would not get cut as they walked the beach. I have to admit that when I brought the sea glass home and placed it on a tray, it looked kind of nice.

I don't know what I will do with it, but it will one day make a nice display or gift for someone who collect them. It is fascinating that some stores will sell sea glass and some people make it into jewelry. I would love to hear my friend from Maine's thoughts on her fascination with sea glass.

I must admit that looking at my collection reminds me of the power of the ocean. In a short time, the ocean can transform something sharp and dangerous into something pleasant to hold and admire. Isn't this what God does with us. When we are immersed in God's overwhelming grace, our rough edges get smoothed over. What we might find as rough because beautiful in the sight of others who behold our jagged lives. God can quickly transform the most cutting of surfaces into something smooth, and we simply become part of the terrain - sometimes overlooked because we fit in so well; other times singled out for our beauty when we are added to a collection of like-transformed objects. We are treasured.

Photos: The Holy Transfiguration Monastery in Windsor, Maine

To see photos of the Holy Transfiguration Hermitaqe in Windsor, Maine, please click on the link below:

Pics of the Windsor Hermitage

A Wearying Wind

The past week has been amazing as Tropical Storm Tomas passed by New England. The sustained winds have been battering the shoreline incessantly. Typically, I fall asleep at night hearing very little outside noise but this week has been a constant drone.

It reminds me of the heaviness of the liturgical readings, which are all about the end times. It seems as if the constant pressure of the waves is both a reminder of the pressures of the world, but also the immense power of God to break into our lives. God's not going to stop trying. Only when we say, "O.K. I give in" will be be able to realize the gentleness of God's invitations.

Retreatants have spent a great deal of time on the rocks. In some ways, I can't blame them for wanting to behold such a spectacle, but they don't realize they are not safe. The enormous sprays of waves against the rocks have tremendous power to sweep anyone into the sea. The people think they are safe and they are not realizing that the wetness of the rocks on which they stand are from those rogues waves. When I tried to tell them to be careful and move away, they turned away from my advice. How come some people think they are impregnable to danger?

I have to say that my danger quotient rose this year when I went scuba diving. It was exhilarating. Now I want to bungee jump, hang-glide, and parachute.

I laugh when I daydream about this because I will become fearful when I'm driving a mountain road or a very long bridge. I tend to think that I am not fearful of heights as much as I am fearful of voids. When I'm driving up a winding mountain road, my stomach is queazy when I cannot see the land below. If it seems as if I am driving off into infinite, I fear that I will lose control of my ability to drive. The same with a bridge. If I cannot see the ground below, I feel a bit panicky. If I am driving up across a bridge and can only see the sky, I lose my sense of balance, but if I'm on the top of the bridge and can see the horizon, I am fine. I try to conquer this fear by placing myself in these extreme positions, but I always get this vertigo-like feeling.

Anyways, I still want to parachute jump.

Let me return to the ocean. One of the neatest things about watching the waves this week was to spot the rainbows in the mist. It is quite a phenomenon. I'm sure physics can explain why it happens, but all the reasons in the world won't explain the wonder one experiences when that prism bursts forth. Many rainbows formed from the fine spray - literally, nearly 100 per hour. Even the least sensate person would have been pulled off his chair to marvel at this natural feat.

Tonight, I am in Windsor, Maine at the Holy Transfiguration Monastery. I would have to say that any and all Transfigurations are holy. This is a lovely spot though. It is between Augusta and Belfast in a tiny little village. It is very dark because there is no light pollution. It reminds me of my time at Sevenhill in Australia because there were no street lights to dim the view of the stars. Also, I can hear coyotes in the forest. I'm told they come close and will eat the free range chickens of our neighbors.

I'm in a lovely retreat center. This building is new construction with four bedrooms, two baths, a conference room, and a well-equipped kitchen. As you can see, it also has wireless. It is both lovely and comfortable. The construction is solid and contemporary. I recommend it to anyone who wants a week of silence.

Anyways, it is soon time for bed. I was remarking to myself today that good eating is one of the joys of life. I have to live less joyfully.

I wonder how long I can remain a vegetarian - once I begin.

Photos: The Battered Shore

To see photos of the shoreline battered by Tropical Storm Tomas, please click on the link below:

Pics of The Battered Shore

A Stormy Day

As I drove home in the early evening, freezing rain and a touch of wet snowflakes reminded me of what will soon come in great quantities. Winds and rains battered the retreat house throughout the night. Darkness settled early as daylight savings time has come to an end.

I lament the loss of my Ultraviolent Sunlamp. It is a helpful way of staying energized during the dark winter months. When I moved to Australia for tertainship, my Jesuit brothers moved my possessions out of the house and into a room at Cheverus where I onced worked. The sunlamp is a casualty of the move. The lamp replicates the sun's natural rays and provides the stimulus for keeping one alert and vibrant. It is especially good in the dark days of New England when cabin fever can set in. It is proven as a remedy for those who have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). I don't have it, but I like the recharging effect this lamp provides.

Anyways, since a weekend retreat had ended, I was not expecting to be around for a meal at the retreat house upon my return. However, the lights on the in kitchen gave me hope that there might be warm leftovers. To my delight, the fragrance of the Yankee Pot Roast meal that was made by one of my brothers was truly a delight and an incredible gesture of goodwill. We enjoyed the nicest conversations around a meal that was well prepared.

I needed this at the end of this week. The New England Patriots lost in a terrible way to a promising, but mediocre Cleveland Browns. Also, the conclusion of a brutal U.S. election campaign ended on Tuesday. Masschusetts voted Democratic while various parts of the country voted Republican. I am glad the election advertisements are over because they lack civility and truth. Most of the campaigns are efforts to spin their own version of the truth and their intent is to win voters with the most minimal soundbytes imaginable.

I wonder if we ever had the ability to discourse during election campaigns. It is rare that conversation and discourse happens in any sphere of life. Most of the times, people think they are in conversation when they get to state what is on their minds. Real conversation involves a lot more listening and paraphrasing than we imagine. Conversation requires a lot of work and patience and we have to check out with the other person if we are understanding what he or she is saying to us.

I visited the tertians in the New England program yesterday. They are a terrific group of men. One of the tertians is sick right now with a brain tumor and is going through daily treatments. He is a lovely man. I was able to spend time with other friends and catch up on where they are in their life. I came away from that visit with tremendous contentment.

Anyways, when I awoke this morning I heard the Coast Guard helicopter making a coastal sweep of Gloucester. I realized that even though I am right on the ocean, we do not get any airplane traffic from Logan airport. Most of my nights are very quiet. Only the ocean's waves or a strong wind interrupts the silence. I feel so blessed.

The ocean, like God, can be overpowering at times. I try not to run from it, but it is sometimes hard to stay with it. I want to enter more deeply into the stillness. This is one of the graces of my long retreat - to stay with the stillness.

The sunlight that splays through the trees can create a surreal feeling. I find myself most happy to be alive. The falling leaves during this month of All Souls continues to remind me of the death of the world and my own immortality. I want to be ready for my death when it comes, but I don't want it to come too soon. I want to live because this is a good world that has been redeemed by God. I find much goodness in it and I find I am very happy.

Photos: Early November Days

To see photos of early November days, please click on the link below:

Pics of Early November Days

Photos: Late October Scenes

To see photos of Autumn in New England, please click on the link below:

Pics of Late October Days