Mindfulness in a Shell: What will you find?

There’s something pleasingly childlike – simple, absorbing and entrancing about wandering along a beach, discovering treasures washed up by the sea – bits of wood, pebbles of kaleidoscopic hues – and shells, shells and more shells. 

Shells, lichens and limpets

Who can resist filling their pockets with these fascinating curios: homes to tiny sea creatures long gone. What stories might they tell? Find a large shell and hold it to your ear – do you hear the sea, shushing on a shore far away?

A large shell brings a whisper from the sea…

There is a beach way up north from here where many an hour has been spent in blissful exploration. One of the king finds is the tiny delicate Monetaria moneta, or money cowry. Usually tricky to spot, once you get your eye in they can be found in pools, in nooks or just washed up in the sand.

Tantalising beaches can hide all sorts of delights just waiting to be uncovered

Historically these curiously shaped shells were widely used in Pacific and Indian ocean lands as shell money before the introduction of hard cash (and way before contactless payment!) 

Cowries – riches untold!

The shells are the abandoned homes of small sea snails, a marine gastropod mollusc. Also known as Groatie Buckie shells in Caithness they are considered to bring good fortune to the finder. Children love seeking them out – and for adults, too, the simple pastime of shell seeking is mindfulness perfection in a shell. Just tune in to the sounds around you – the gentle swish of waves on the beach, the crying of seabirds; the smooth feel of pebbles, stones and shells. Feel your cares drift away and your mind float in peaceful rhythm with the surf. An hour will feel like five minutes and you’ll come away refreshed and relaxed.

The American poet, Amy Lowell (1874-1925) wrote the following poem, Sea Shell:

           Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
           Sing me a song, O Please!
           A song of ships, and sailor men,
           And parrots, and tropical trees,

          Of islands lost in the Spanish Main
          Which no man ever may find again,
          Of fishes and corals under the waves,
          And seahorses stabled in great green caves.

          Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
          Sing of the things you know so well.
Pilgrim's Perch
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