Lake Treasures

The inside of the brown and white shell is a sheer, shining purple that catches the light and reflects it like a glaze. Next to it lie two pieces of wood worn smooth with water and time, one straight fragment and one bent and callused. They, in turn, are surrounded by stones, brick red and sulphur yellow, and pieces of shell, some naturally shellacked with mother of pearl, some cracked in jagged and intriguing ways.

On my dining room table sits a slowly filling bowl, where I deposit these treasures that I find walking on the beach with my husband near where we live in rural Ontario, Canada. Lake Erie has some beautiful sandy beaches a five-minute drive from our house, where natural debris is scattered across the shores, honed by every wave.

When we walk on the beach, I keep my eyes open. As I talk with my husband, something might snag my peripheral vision, a detail, something interesting. Maybe I would even go so far as to say the aura of an object. I am aware, I notice. My husband and I are talking and immersed in our own world, but I remain alive to the natural world without, the crunch of sand and shell as we walk, the liquid rush of the waves and how big they are in that moment, whether there is wind to our backs or on our faces. Walking on the beach makes me more alive to the world around me.

So it is to be held by natural beauty that is soothing, not terrifying. The human hand is evident in our surroundings – there is a paved walking and cycling path near our house that cuts through wooded areas, and many trails that follow the millennia of trampled earth of indigenous pathways. The beach has two sizeable parking lots and the remnants of a harbourfront on the western side. Untamed nature calls to us, but it is in a voice of both seduction and terror.

The natural world that surrounds me now is on a manageable scale. I can see G-d in it without being overwhelmed by it. I can see G-d at the beach in the crash and ripple of every wave; I can see the force of life in the driftwood and shells I collect and take home as treasures. I can see the human partnership with G-d in the impacts generations of people have made on my surroundings to render nature more accessible for human appreciation. The partnership that Judaism sees between humanity and G-d need not create environmental devastation; in fact, we are seeing a shift in consciousness about how we interact with our world. Hopefully the shift is strong enough, soon enough, to ameliorate or reverse the damage humanity has done.

I can also see G-d in my ability to notice the beauty that is around me. Ongoing practices of Jewish mindfulness, which includes a combination of text study and meditation sits, allow me to see more of the world in front of me, allow me to stop when those miniature beauties snag the periphery of my attention, to take a closer look. There are wonders everywhere if we learn how to look, and listen, and use our other senses to appreciate the joy of a creative world. And we might call this G-d, and celebrate it.