Beachcombing

I am a earth sign, on the cusp with an air sign. But I've always been drawn to the water's edge, particularly in times of inner turmoil and anxiety. When I think back over some of the most traumatic experiences of my life — heartbreaks, abuse, betrayals, loss and deep sorrow — I can remember grasping for a thread of sanity or just peace and heading for one of Lake Michigan's nearby piers. And just as easily as some people "give it go God," I gave my pain and my tears to the powerful waters — sometimes quite literally casting away whatever physical remnants of loss or grief I wanted to finally be free of. But that is between me and the lake. She keeps my secrets faithfully.

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I started collecting beach glass as a teenager and this summer I've probably collected more than I have in my whole life! The combination of being unemployed during the summer, and The Nurse loving the quiet Zen-like treasure-hunting as much as I, has meant many beach days for us. But she's a Pisces and nowhere more in her element than near the water. The beach is the absolute most perfect place for a water-sign Pisces, and The Nurse is blond, to boot, and is a total sun-worshiper. I can see how recharged she gets after a few hours at the beach. I'm not a sun person at all; my skin is fair and freckled and I start to burn in about 15 minutes. Still, I've been consistently drawn to the lake throughout my life, and I love to collect beach glass. Beach glass is made from discarded bottles: coca-cola, beer, and even milk of magnesia that gets broken and tumbled by the sand and water over the course of years. And after all that battering, something quite ordinary is transformed into treasure. It gives me hope. Hope that I can be transformed too — as life breaks and tumbles me in its waves and deposits me on some rocky shore. Each piece of glass that I collect is a prayer-wish, a treasure and a promise. There is beauty to be found inside, if we just persevere.