The Beach House

Sally lived near water most of her life in a beach house not far from the water’s edge. For some reason Sally always came back to the beach, circling back as an adult in this moment.

On the beach with the gulls

On the beach with the gulls

Her beach house was very tiny so she had to be  careful about how much she collected;  there was not much room for her treasures from past homes, and many of her things were too large to take along and she had to leave them behind.
It was a good thing that Sally did not treasure too many things in life. She would often say, “Things are just things. We need to treasure people and the time we have on this earth to be silent and in touch with nature.”

A minimalist would feel that Sally was doing well in keeping her home clear of unnecessary clutter; keeping an open effect for the pure pleasure of clarity and spirit. Tiny things such as smooth colorful beach glass sprinkled her tables and colorful curtains of pinks and yellows made the small dining area a peaceful place to be.



Every day Sally would go to the water’s edge and toss stones, picking up tiny pieces of pink, blue, brown and green glass to create beach treasures for herself and others who loved to breathe in and out at the water’s edge. 

Sally felt honored and blessed to be able to live near water, often expressing to others how peaceful and balanced she felt on her daily meditative walks on the beach nearby.

Beach combing was  something that Sally treasured as a child; climbing on rocks, tossing stones, pretending she lived on the beach; building sandcastles and collecting colorful stones.

And when Sally slept she dreamed that she would return as an adult to the water’s edge; keeping promises to herself about what she loved about beach houses; so soft and peaceful, hearing the waves as they sometimes thundered against the banks of life near the water’s edge.

If you understand the beauty of water as it crests softly and sometimes roughly all day and all night long, you understand that nothing ever ends, it just becomes part of something else.

And when the lake is blue and calm you can breath in the soft breezes of summer, but when the lake is brown and mucky you breathe in a different type of breath; the breath of clarity where everything is moving about; clearing a path for you to think deep down into your soul where you dance, smile and learn life’s lessons well because you know that you will not be here forever in the form that you are right now.