Let us find the ocean into which the river of our life will flow

Every winter, I find myself at the beach with my family. We have favorites in New Jersey and Delaware, and for over a decade now, we spend at least one long weekend, in the cold months, seaside. Why winter? There are no amusement park rides, no ice cream shops, and no jumping waves. True, and all of that is worth a summer trip, but time spent at the beach in winter is an experience deeper, quieter and more centered than almost any other vacation. These trips are a chance to get away from everyday life and focus on connecting with my most-loved ones and the world that holds us.  

It is a solitary time to collect thoughts. It is a relaxed time for mementos—shells and pebbles, sketches and photos—artifacts to later remind us of the vast beauty around us. While snuggled in a blanket or winter coat, the air of the shore seems to flow in from another universe. The sun is sharper, contrasted against the cold air in your chest. The sky is clearer. This sea breeze, as opposed to its summer cousin, is thinner and soaked with salt and clarity.  

One of our most special places is a visit to Cape May’s Sunset beach. Every single day, there is a perfect view of the sun setting over the Delaware Bay with hues of red, orange, yellow, gray, purple and blue mixing like colors on a painter’s palette. The horizon is pointedly straight, creating a slicing intersection of color and shape. No waves, only small swells from the tides of the bay. Nature creates the perfect complimentary balance of a coolness and warmth in everything here. 

Here at Sunset beach, on the edge of the bay, the sand is a bit rougher, grains larger than the sand on the ocean side of the peninsula, and mixed in are smooth rocks, shell fragments, and small bits of pebbles. The pebbles range in colors as diverse as the sunset, and among this shoreline mixture, you will find some pebbles that sparkle like diamonds. Smooth and clear, with a bit of a glimmer, these stand out from the rest. These famous Cape May Diamonds—actually quartz—captivate people. Up and down the shoreline, I watch families comb the beach, sifting through sand, looking for these tiny quartz jewels. When I watch my family digging for these treasures, I think about how personal stories, private stories, can intersect. 

A bit of quartz began its journey somewhere upstream in the Delaware river, over a thousand or more years ago. As it moved downstream slowly over centuries, it carried the story of its journey in its changing surface. Now here, a pair of human hands, carrying its own story, digs in to the sand. These hands lift a scoop, sift through it, and rinse away the dust hoping to find one of these diamonds. When one is found, two stories mingle. Here is a stone from the Catskills, that has drifted downstream, and its shape was transformed, smoothed, as it traveled. Here is a loved-one holding a treasured symbol to remember a special trip full of beauty and love. Now that these two stories have come together, something comes into being. 

To the natural world this mineral is nothing special; but here, in these hands, as part of this new story, it creates a moment worth the world.