Every day, I go to the beach to pick winkles, small sea snails which, I am told, are a delicacy in countries I've never been to. That's my profession. I lift rocks, stir in pools, and roll over boulders to find them. It is a rewarding job; outdoors, physically demanding, in beautiful surroundings. I have to be careful not to pick the shells when they are too small, because it will have an effect on their natural balance. Small shells become big shells who have babies, and nature will start all over again. It's called sustainability. Every week, the sea takes something from me. Small things, of no importance to anyone else but me. It could be my favourite white chopstick that holds my hair in a tight bun while I work, my bagpack containing the rest of my lunch, or the gloves that, hopefully, prevent me from falling victim to athritis in a few years. I don't really mind as I have learned that you have to give in order to gain. However, every week the sea returns what she has taken. It might take some days, but the gloves, the chopstick, or the backpack suddenly are lying on the beach again, for me to find. That's how I know that the sea does not mind, either.
Created: Feb 02, 2016Document Media