Walking on the beach of St. George Island. Morning sun rising, warming.

Gaze drawn to the footprints in the sand, those not yet washed away by the gentle gulf tide. My bare feet leaving a fleeting, fading track behind.

Remembering my friend Mark, a different beach, different sand, the same water.

Peaceful morning. Thankful.

_

Mark is a spiritual guide, no, just one who “accompanies” friends on the journey. His descriptive.

That day on a pacific beach he invited a group of us to reflect and share about our “sand” and “oil”.
Oil, he said, a symbol of healing balm or blessing or anointing.
Sand, he said, like the sand between our toes, the beach we carry home, the sand that can be soft yet abrasive, and everywhere. Sometimes the sand sticks and grates when you wish to be clean of it.

My oil today is simply having a day to “be”, a time to reflect, rest, write, renew.
My sand today, each grain a distraction: e-mails and texts, little problems, demands, drama. For example: e-mails (plural) from the “landlord” about cake crumbs ground into the borrowed carpet on Sunday. Sand can be annoying.

Sand can be helpful. The abrasion can arouse our attention. The grind can smooth rough edges, polish even. Distraction can re-focus. For example: I miss my girls, our morning routine (the same one I would take for granted or rush through if I was there instead of here thinking about home).

I leave the sand to rub, remind. You cannot escape the sand here. It is invasive. You could not have the beach without it! And from it, possibly, a pearl of beauty created.

When the sand hurts just a little, perhaps the oil can overwhelm, a balm of healing to soothe the pain.
You need both sand and oil to move you.

What, today, is your sand? Your oil?

_

The sun is rising, warming. Footprints in the sand fleeting, fading. Washed by the same water.

Time to focus on something creative…