I follow the whispers.
Those, essentially, inaudible prompts that come from Who-Knows. Some say God. Guidance, Grace. The Higher Self.
Higher, lower, I’m somewhere- driving my car down the road, when the whisper comes urging me to turn right instead of going straight. Take a walk on this beach, not that one.
And because my life is currently in a semi-state of flux (we are moving and looking for a new home), and because I’m kind of like a little scientist experimenting (always seeking proof that intuition’s real), and because I have the time on this particular morning, I turn right on to that dirt road that leads to my favorite beach. The one I’ve deemed my temple.
I haven’t been to church lately. This natural cathedral entails a bit of a trek, which takes more time to get there. Time being something that’s seemed tight as of late. But with an extra forty-five minutes on this day, my soles set foot on the path to sacred sand and sea.
It’s not far into the first stretch of empty beach that I see it glowing in the sunlight. A bottle washed ashore, I guess. Though as it rests near the tide line, the shape seems more round than a bottle. And in the case of any treasure found, once I am upon it, there is a gasp, a skipping heart beat. A smile.
“No way!” I say to no one.
A glass fishing float is in my hands, having lapped up from that mystery place of Who-Knows.
This is a rare find.
Anywhere from forty to a hundred years old, this glass ball unleashed itself from some Japanese fishing net long ago, beginning a journey that bobbed through the Pacific until rolling up on this shore. Now, held in my hands.
It’s not the first time this temple/beach has gifted me a treasured gem. This place has granted me many a precious Sunrise shell (once, three in one morning). On one October afternoon here, a hefty, golden-hued coin embossed with the goddess Lakshmi washed up at my feet. Heck, this is the beach is where I met my husband. And the same place where he, subsequently, proposed.
In each of those instances, when some offering was bestowed upon me, what was it that had positioned me in that very place and time?
It was the whispers.
I’d been following a nudge. A quiet, but clear suggestion.
I would venture to say that these directives are possibly more reliable than a GPS. Certainly, more fun.