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It happened.

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Seashells and Their True Belonging

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Once I had the habit of gifting people with seashells Today I went to the beach and started, almost automatically, to pick up seashells. The sea line was near, the water was cold. The view was amazing. A dark blue pictured the feeling of coziness and fear at the same time: time is passing by. I felt grounded, fully aware of the simple yet profound gift of being alive. I felt centered by the awareness of being alive. In the moment I got them collected, someone was drawn into my memory, and one question was also brought up: "Who am I gifting with this? Who deserves to be loved by me through this?" Just today my conscience made me acknowledge I was giving people something that wasn’t even mine in the first place. How dare I?  Maybe that's the cool part of experiencing places. We can’t bring back the Egyptian pyramids, the snow from Canada, and the joy you felt when spending time in Disneyland. Life can’t be held in someone’s jar. Someone I love told me yesterday that maybe, ...
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